Make Love, or Make a Revolution
by btvshond
Summary: The sixth year, all lives intertwine. Severus Snape loses part of his memory but continues in his double masquerade. Harry and his friends befriend the Potions Master tentatively. Voldemort has a new weapon. A Muggle girl gets caught in the charade.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Inspired by my first Snape fanfic 'Blacker than Black, Whiter than White', I started on a novel-length fanfic. It is a WIP, but determination to finish it will prevail! Severus Snape will be the main protagonist, but the fanfic contains snippets of many other characters from the beloved Harry Potter world so vividly realised by J.K. Rowling. It also contains a few new characters by me, one of whom has been introduced in the first fanfic.  
  
The title, 'Make Love, or Make a Revolution' is a variation of one line uttered by Alan Rickman in 'The Preacher'.  
  
You have the power over your mind - not outside events. Realise this, and you will find strength. ~ Marcus Aurelius  
  
Prologue  
  
"It's gone. . . I can't find it! I can't lose it. It's mine! You won't take it from me! I will remember. . . Sweet heavens, c'est Lenfer de Dante!"  
  
Severus Snape jerked forward in his bed and cried out so unexpectedly, he frightened all around him. 'Oh, merciful fires, deep, so bright. . .' he trailed off and began at turns to giggle and sob, but the giggle is far sadder than the sob. He fell back onto his soft mattress and slipped in and out of consciousness.  
  
The lines were etched onto Albus Dumbledore's face. 'It's worse than I feared.'  
  
Minerva McGonagall threw Snape a furtive glance. 'What is it? What can it be?'  
  
'I see the destinies in my soul, beauty twisted, twisted beauty, not beauty, never beauty. . .'  
  
Albus frowned, 'When I want to hear his thoughts, he won't tell. Now I am getting an, what's that Muggle word? An overdose.'  
  
'Is it. . . is it a side-effect to Crucio Albus?'  
  
Albus turned to Poppy Pomfrey, 'Well?'  
  
'I. . . all I can deduce is that he's sufferring from high fever Headmaster.' Poppy received an incredulous look from both the Master and Mistress of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 'That's it! That's all I know.'  
  
'Black mountains. . . and white lava. . . They sear, they burn. . . Black and white. . . Always looming. . . I reach for the nothingness. . .'  
  
'How do you explain this delirium? Even if it is a consequence of a normal disease, how do you explain that the medication, which apparently lowered his body temperature, has not eased his mental state?'  
  
'I cannot.'  
  
As the anxiety of the staff mounted in his rooms, Severus continued to mutter to himself. There was a dream-like quality to his present situation. Although his thoughts made sense to him, whatever he said seemed beyond his control and ridiculously whimsical. Since he could not yet offer an explanation to Albus about his predicament, he drove all his strength and will to retain what precious memory he had.  
  
"Away, you who take my rights, my freedom, and destroy them with a swipe of hand. You who make me loath and hate and long. . . You shall not take my mind!"  
  
'Away, all that which belongs, belongs no more, lost! Lost!'  
  
'Tell him to stop Albus!' Minerva pleaded.  
  
Albus obeyed. 'Severus, stop.'  
  
Severus disobeyed.  
  
'Albus, that wasn't amusing.'  
  
'It wasn't meant to be. But it is all I can do, before I find out more of his condition.'  
  
'Then what do we suggest we do?'  
  
Albus pinched his nose and said grimly, 'As what we have always been doing, Minerva. Wait.' 


	2. Chapter 1

In youth we learn; in age we understand. ~ Maria Ebner-Eschenbach  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Harry Potter rubbed his scar as he scowled over his essay.  
  
'Is it hurting Harry?'  
  
Harry looked up at Hermione Granger in surprise and realised what she was referring to.  
  
'Oh. . . no, no it isn't. It's. . . I just. . . Habit,' he finished lamely.  
  
'Oh.'  
  
'Yeah, nothing to worry about. You should show more concern about my homework.' Harry grinned.  
  
He managed to distract Hermione. 'You didn't finish it?'  
  
'Only Divination left.'  
  
Hermione scoffed, 'Why should I show concern over that?'  
  
'It's going to be part of my N.E.W.T.S Hermione!'  
  
'Yes, and it will be your own fault if you fail it.'  
  
As the two continued bickering, Ronald Weaseley joined them in their compartment as the train hurtled along the track towards Hogwarts.  
  
'Hey.' He gave Hermione a peck on her cheek before settling down. 'What are you two up to?'  
  
As Hermione complained to her boyfriend, Harry went back to his essay, still grinning. They didn't change, not really. True, Ron and Hermione were now a couple, as he had always thought they would be. It was strange how two such unlike people managed to attract each other. Couple or not, Ron and Hermione were still Ron and Hermione, the two best friends he had first made since the first year in Hogwarts.  
  
Hogwarts. . . who would have thought time could fly so mercilessly by, even by wizarding standards. Five years had passed since he had first stepped into the castle that was his school and home. Now, they were all entering his sixth year. What new surprises lie in stall?  
  
Or maybe, Harry's thoughts grew darker, it should be what new horrors await?  
  
Since the resurrection of one Lord Voldemort, nothing remained the same. Lessons in school would continue, business would proceed in Gringotts' Bank, witches and wizards alike would hurdle together at the Three Broomsticks. . . but always the menace of Voldemort hung in everyone's mind and lingered in every corner.  
  
'Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know. . .'  
  
This was what Sirius Black, his godfather, meant. Terror, confusion. . . Voldemort did not even need to do anything disastrous. A fire at a hospital here, a contact to a Dementor there, a flick of the wand of Morsmordre to reveal his presence, or omnipresence, was enough to cast a gloom over the strong and hysteria over the weak.  
  
Harry caught himself rubbing at his scar again. Stealing a glance at the still bickering pair assured him that they had not noticed.  
  
His scar had bothered him sporadically throughout the holidays. It did not cause him pain as before. Rather, it seemed to be tugging at his will, calling to him. None of which made any sense. He wandered if he should talk to Dumbledore. It seemed to be another habit now, seeking the Headmaster's advice. He winced slightly. As enjoying or enlightening as their conversations always were, he felt uncomfortable at the fact that the time he spent with Dumbledore was much greater than that of any other student.  
  
'All this special treatment is getting into your head Potter. Do you think you are no longer a student but an Auror? One who can call on the Headmaster anytime you want?'  
  
Snape's voice cut through his thought. Harry involuntarily snorted. This time, he got his friends' attention.  
  
'What?' Ron asked.  
  
Harry related the 'appearance' of Snape to them. They did not know whether to laugh or sigh.  
  
In the past year, Snape was the only one to change in front of their eyes. Reluctant as they were to admit at first, Snape had grown in their esteem, much to both sides' chagrin. After all, Snape still disliked them immensely while they still believed he was an arrogant git, to put it mildly. And yet, if the past year had shown them anything, it was the truth as to where their Potions Master's loyalties lay.  
  
Ironically, it was Ron who was the first to accept such a drastically devastating fact.  
  
***  
  
'Dad told me he knew Snape,' he said blankly to the other two after they met each other again at the beginning of their fifth year. 'Said he's the best they've got to beat You-Know-Who.'  
  
'Voldemort,' corrected Harry.  
  
'If you insist! Who cares how we call him?'  
  
'How can they be so sure?' It was a question that repeatedly burnt in Harry's head.  
  
'Dad said he'd rather trust Dumbledore than Fudge.'  
  
'He's right.' Hermione stayed silent, before picking the courage to ask, 'Harry, do you hate him? Snape, I mean.'  
  
Did he hate him? How could he not? Snape was the only teacher who ever showed him contempt and used every stray opportunity to punish him and the other Gryffindors.  
  
'Are you telling me you don't?'  
  
Ron scoffed, 'Harry, Hermione doesn't hate any teacher.'  
  
'Sometimes, it almost seems you're actually understanding. . . and to answer you Harry. . . Ron's right. I don't hate Snape. Least ways, not now.'  
  
'Why?'  
  
'You saw the times he had saved you Harry.'  
  
'He tried to get Padfoot and Professor Lupin killed.'  
  
'Yes, yes that was pettiness on his part. I think, that if he had known the whole truth, he wouldn't have done it.'  
  
Harry turned to Ron, 'Can you believe her?'  
  
To his surprise, Ron blushed, 'Yeah. Dad told me some things. . . But I can't tell you!' He quickly added when he saw the curiosity permeating through the two's countenance. 'You have to wait until others are willing to tell.'  
  
And so Harry and Hermione waited. They, as the all-too-common saying went, received more than they had bargained.  
  
Throughout their fifth year, Snape deteriorated in front of their eyes. Even the dense Twiddledee and Twindledum, or Crabbe and Goyle, sensed the change. Or maybe, as Hermione pointed, they heard from their fathers what had happened.  
  
At the beginning, the change was imperceptible. Snape continued to be the Snapish character he was, rude, mean, offensive. If possible, his tongue became more poisonous than before.  
  
'Longbottom, for pity's sake, get back to Year One!' Snape once yelled when Neville had done a relatively harmless mistake of using Hermione's cauldron instead of his own.  
  
It became clear as time went by that Snape's nerves were increasingly frayed. He was not only irritable, he was downright unreasonable. If it were not for the trio's determination to find out more about Snape, they would not have been able to observe the other more disturbing signs.  
  
During Potions lessons, Snape had gradually stopped roaming round the class. His wit and mental capabilities still remained, as he snapped at everyone who made the slightest mistake, including those who sat at the back of the room. He still walked the corridors with his strong strides, and completed his nightly duties of patrolling with the usual tenacity. However, he was no longer seen at mealtimes and the trio could tell he was not using his strength more than necessary.  
  
It was at the end of August that led them to discover the extent of Snape's extra activities.  
  
That night, as Hermione was secretly returning to her dormitory from the library, she passed the hospital wing and saw the light inside flickering erratically. Worried, she took a peek, nearly gasped out loud, and ran to the Common Room to call for Harry and Ron. Together, under the new, much larger Invisibility Cloak Harry had bought, they hurried down to the hospital wing.  
  
They crept into a corner. Before them, lay a scene, which they would tell their children for the rest of their lives.  
  
It was surreal, almost comforting and peaceful in its way. The room was surrounded with dozens of candles with flames glowing with a warm orange. At the centre was a simple white bed, with Snape hovering above it, relaxed. The candles slowly encroach on him. The trio watched in awe as the candles swirled around him. Faster and faster they spun, until. . .  
  
Hermione screamed but no one seemed to hear her. The room had plunged into darkness, before lighting up again with a green light, the same shade of green that flared when someone had cast Avada Kedavra. There was no rest in the room now, only undiluted fear. Screams echoed from all sides, attacking them with such ferocity they lifted their hands to try to block them vainly. Helpless, they had to watch Snape convulse in front of them. Then, they actually saw the air rush into him and felt as though they were carried along. As soon as the air entered, it came out again, this time bringing images of memories that could only belong to Snape's.  
  
He had been to a Death-Eaters' gathering. Flashes of dead bodies, ripped from their graves, were tossed around as though the Death-Eaters were looking for specific targets. Some were too decayed, with worms frantically crawling out; others too old when the person had died. Finally, after selecting ten, the group left for their leader.  
  
To see Voldemort, albeit in an image, after months racked Harry's spirit. He had thought he was finally able to overcome his horror of him. Ron and Hermione, who had never seen Voldemort before, suddenly looked nauseous. Harry could not bother just then to see if they would puke.  
  
Voldemort was apparently stronger than he was at their last encounter. Standing tall and majestic, his eyes burnt with an even brighter blood red. One by one, each Death-Eater knelt in servitude as they gave their own report. When it was Snape's turn, apprehension gripped the three students. The last image they saw was that of him crumbling to the ground and the cruel laughter that was all too familiar for Harry.  
  
The room returned to the initial state that they had seen. They found out later that the whole incident only took five seconds. Five seconds it had taken to drain them of their willpower and change their perspective of reality.  
  
All was silent, eerily so after the traumatising affair. Hence, the students could not be blamed for jumping when a soft voice addressed them. 'Children?'  
  
They turned to find Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomprey and Sirius Black facing them. Their cloak had been flung onto the floor. It was Dumbledore who had spoken up.  
  
'Go to my office,' he instructed gently, 'The password's Chocolate Fog. I will join you in a minute.'  
  
Stunned, they automatically did what they were told. When they reached the door, Harry looked back to see Snape now lying on the bed, so still he wondered if he were dead.  
  
No one said a word until they reached the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office.  
  
'Chocolate Frog,' said Harry mechanically. But the gargoyle did not budge.  
  
'He said chocolate fog Harry.' At this, the gargoyle leapt to one side.  
  
They headed for the office.  
  
'Chocolate fog?' Harry mused, as they entered the room.  
  
'Harry, I don't want to dispute about chocolates right now.' Hermione did look tired. Ron quickly carried a chair to her.  
  
It was not long before Dumbledore and Sirius arrived.  
  
'Harry.' Sirius came forward to hug the boy.  
  
'Sirius? I thought I was dreaming when I first saw you. What are you doing here? Isn't it too risky?'  
  
'Don't worry about my safety. The headmaster has attended to that. As to what I'm doing here. . .' Sirius rubbed his brow, 'I'm here to gather inside information, to tell the others. Been doing so since your fifth year.'  
  
'Others? But, who are they? And why didn't you tell me in your letters?'  
  
'I think, we should all settle down. You forgot your cloak Harry. Here.' Dumbledore took his seat at his table. Holding out a box, he asked, 'Chocolate fog?'  
  
When all shook their heads, he opened it cautiously. True to its name, a brown mist seeped out as Dumbledore twirled it round his finger before consuming it. Putting the box back into the drawer, he faced them and smiled kindly. 'You are no doubt eager to know what has happened in the past months.'  
  
'First, I will not tell you who our helpers are. It is already dangerous enough to know that Sirius is actually visiting Hogwarts regularly. It's why I told him not to inform you Harry.'  
  
'Yes sir.'  
  
'You know that Voldemort has become more powerful. Even the Ministry and the Daily Prophet cannot hide that. What is not known is what his actual plans are in his bid to conquer the wizarding world. I shall not attempt to tell you since we do not have all the facts yet. Are you also aware that Professor Snape has returned to his spying duties?'  
  
'Yes sir, we sort of guessed it.' Hermione whispered.  
  
'You have seen tonight what he has been through. After every meeting with the Death-Eaters and Voldemort, he would return to me. The ritual, developed by Professor Flitwick, is a combination of the most ancient and rudimentary magical powers. There is an additional advantage of using it over a Pensieve. Not only does it show a person's memories, it helps alleviate a person's physical stress.'  
  
'Stress?' Ron blurted out, although he already knew the answer.  
  
'Cruciatus.' Dumbledore's voice was hollow. 'Voldemort's fanciful whims are endless and unexpected.'  
  
Harry had sufferred Cruciatus before. Once. And he prayed he would not have to endure it anymore. Snape was submitted to it for Merlin-knows how many times, and he kept going back. . .  
  
'Is that why he's been so weak?'  
  
Dumbledore's eye twinkled a little before sadness claimed him again, 'Severus would deduct fifty points from you if he had heard you Miss Granger. But yes, you are right.'  
  
'Would he, would he go mad?'  
  
'Professor Snape's a powerful wizard, more so than anyone can describe.'  
  
'Like yourself?'  
  
'I,' said Dumbledore ambiguously, 'am born by accident.'  
  
'Sir,' Ron's excitement made him tremble, 'Shouldn't the staff make precautions to prevent anyone from barging into the hospital wing while the. . . the ritual is carried out? I mean, what if a Slytherin found out Snape, beg your pardon, Professor Snape, is working for you?'  
  
Dumbledore's expression became stern. 'Understand this Mr. Weaseley. Not all Slytherins are evil. Just as not all Gryffindors are noble. Severus was a Slytherin and Peter Pettigrew was a Gryffindor. Your father, I believe, has told you of past Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who were caught as Death- Eaters.'  
  
Ron was suitably upset, 'Yes sir. Sorry.'  
  
'As for your concerns, do not worry. The staff always puts up the strongest wards around the hospital wing before the ritual.'  
  
'Then, how did we. . . You wanted us to see!' Hermione was thunderstruck.  
  
'Precisely, Miss Granger. Very astute. Since the beginning of this year, I noticed the keen interest possessed by the three of you in Professor Snape. After careful consideration and discussion with Professor McGonagall, I decided that you were all capable of discretion, seeing that you did not tell anyone of your suspicions. I went on to put an end to your doubts once and for all, to show you who Professor Snape is. An agent, not of the supposed light and dark, but of his own convictions.'  
  
'His own convictions?'  
  
'I think, I don't have to tell you what his convictions are. You have seen more than enough tonight to be at ease with Professor Snape. However, if you wish to understand, I will arrange a meeting for you with him.'  
  
At any other time, the three Gryffindors would have been horrified at having to spend time with Snape. Now, a burning desire to know more mingled in as well.  
  
'Does Professor Snape know? About you letting us in tonight.'  
  
'No, he doesn't. I shall tell him. He will be too pleased to hear of your concern for him. Kindly do not snort Sirius. It's rude, not to mention unbecoming.'  
  
Sirius jerked his head up, 'It's late Professor.'  
  
'Indeed. You may leave now. Harry may see you off if he wants. Miss Granger and Mr. Weaseley, however, must return to their dormitories.'  
  
'Seeya Harry.' The two sped off.  
  
When Harry and Sirius walked across the field to the gate, Harry spoke up.  
  
'You were quiet back there Sirius.'  
  
'You didn't talk much yourself.'  
  
'I'm trying to get everything in.'  
  
'I suppose it is a little overwhelming.'  
  
'Sirius,' said Harry urgently, 'Do you believe Snape?'  
  
Sirius paused in his tracks before continuing.  
  
'If I had more time, I would have a deeper conversation with you Harry. As it is. . . I trust him with your life. . . and all the other students', including Muggleborns'.'  
  
'Sirius, does all this mean that you are not enemies with him anymore?'  
  
'In a way, it's tiring to hold on to hatred, but it doesn't go away so easily either. Let's just say Snape and I have formed a stronger, better truce than the one we did during the Triwizard Tournament.' Sirius chuckled softly, 'He still hates my guts, and I his. But yes, we've come to an understanding.'  
  
'Does it mean I shouldn't hate him?'  
  
'That is for you to decide. I'll say this Harry, and listen well. You don't know what hate is. Hate is blind. It consumes you. There is no reason in hate. At the end, it destroys you, as it nearly did for me. If you are asking whether you should hate him, it's safe to say you don't actually hate him, and that is good.' Sirius stopped at the gate. 'Take care. Go straight back. Don't loiter around.'  
  
'Yeah, you keep safe too.' Harry watched passively as Sirius turned into his dog form.  
  
It was only on the last day of the school year when Snape finally consented to have a talk with the three of them. Needless to say that when he had known what Dumbledore had done, Snape had exploded and proceeded to treat the trio as though they were Gildroy Lockhart, only without any pretense of restraint.  
  
Hence on that fateful day when everyone was packing up to head home, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked with heightened wariness towards the Potions Master's office.  
  
'Sit,' Snape waved three chairs at them. 'Now,' his mouth twisted into a smirk, 'How may I serve you?'  
  
'Er. . .' the three were dumbstruck.  
  
It was Ron who risked his neck. 'Didn't Professor Dumbledore. . .'  
  
'Yes, of course. What I want to know is how I can trust you with what Professor Dumbledore wishes me to tell.' Snape's tone was deadly, 'For one slip, no matter how small, can cost not only my life or sanity, but everyone else's.'  
  
Without hesitation, the three pledged by the honour of Hogwarts and Godric Gryffindor that they would be steadfast in their discretion or be sent to Azkaban.  
  
'Or be eaten by spiders,' Ron added.  
  
Snape scowled over them for several unnerving moments. Then, he swept abruptly round to his table. Taking a bottle of yellow liquid, he barked his question, 'Do you know what Meritaserum is?'  
  
'Yes sir. It's another form of truth potion, but it keeps a person lucid unlike Veritaserum.'  
  
'How like you to read from the restricted section Miss Granger,' Snape poured the liquid into his goblet, 'Much as I loathe using it, I hope that this little chat will be our first and last. Hence, this truth potion will curb your tedious suspicions over whether I am telling the truth, so that we may be done with it, and move on happily.'  
  
'Sir, excuse me,' Harry said softly, 'If you think we doubt you so much, why do you think we'll believe that is the real potion?'  
  
'A horrifying sharp question Potter. I didn't expect you to have such mental abilities.' Snape took another cup, poured a significantly smaller amount of liquid into it and gave it to Harry. 'This smaller dose will only last five minutes.'  
  
Harry tensed. He stole a glance at Ron and Hermione. They did not seem overly anxious. Moving quickly before he could regret it, he drank from the cup. A tingle of warmth spread over him.  
  
'Now, Potter, do you like Miss Cho Chang?'  
  
'Yes sir.'  
  
Snape's eyes glittered maliciously, 'How romantic.' He walked back to his seat.  
  
Hermione did not help relieve the embarrassing moment. She was giggling. Harry tried to dispel his discomfort.  
  
'Of all the questions, couldn't you ask something more relevant, or important?'  
  
'My dear Potter, I know more of your doings than you imagine. Besides, that was more amusing, as your esteemed partners in mischief obviously agree.'  
  
Snape nonchalantly downed the contents of his goblet. 'You may begin your interrogation.'  
  
This was it, the three realised. This was the moment they had wondered about, talked about. The man behind Severus Snape. Yet they were clueless as to where to start.  
  
'Er. . . how old are you?'  
  
Snape moaned dramatically, 'Of all the. . . Thirty-nine.'  
  
'How old were you when you began teaching?'  
  
'Twenty-four.'  
  
'How old were you when you became a Death-Eater?'  
  
'Ah. . . we are heading somewhere. Sixteen.'  
  
Shocked silence followed.  
  
'You became a Death-Eater in school?'  
  
'In a way. I received the Dark Mark when I graduated.'  
  
'How old were you when you turned to Dumbledore?'  
  
'Twenty.'  
  
Harry frowned, 'Why did you choose Voldemort?'  
  
'I did not choose the Dark Lord. There was no choice.'  
  
'Professor Dumbledore says there is always a choice in life.'  
  
'Yes, he does, doesn't he?'  
  
'You haven't answered my question.'  
  
'I forgot to mention,' Snape drawled, 'that Meritaserum may force a person to tell the truth, but it doesn't prevent him from not speaking if he wants to.'  
  
'Then I did not have to tell whether I liked. . . Bugger,' Harry grimaced, 'Alright, why did you choose Professor Dumbledore in the end?'  
  
'Somewhere down the years while I was a Death-Eater, the heavens dropped a conscience onto me.'  
  
'You were never remorseful of what you did before?'  
  
'Never, at least, I believe so.'  
  
'What did you do?'  
  
'Torture, blood baths, experimentation on Muggles and Muggleborns, rape. . . Shall I continue?' Snape said it so calmly he might had been reading from a Potions list.  
  
'Why tell us so much?' Hermione's tone shook.  
  
'To let you have no illusions as to what we, the Death-Eaters, are. We are devoid of any morals. You do not speak about them to us, only the politics of advantages in any dealing.'  
  
'You keep saying we and us.'  
  
'I am a part of them.'  
  
'When did you turn then?' Ron asked before the silence dragged any further.  
  
'Some months before I approached Professor Dumbledore.'  
  
'What happened?'  
  
'Twelve of us were sent to a Muggle home in the countryside. I was there to steal some documents the Dark Lord wanted. As usual, any resistance met was overcome either by killing or stunning. It was then that I experienced my first kill, on an old man. I was. . . affected. I realised that being a Death-Eater only meant owning power over the weak. Such power's repulsive and weak in itself. I saw the company I was in. They enjoyed their activities in a way I did not. I saw Voldemort as he was. A much-too crazed and powerful wizard dangerously bent on seizing supreme control over the world.'  
  
'Then what you did. . .'  
  
'The activities I was involved in were an end to the means. There was no remorse.'  
  
'Why did you join Voldemort?'  
  
'Why ask it again? I'm not anxious to tell you.'  
  
The four of them sank into an unexpected sort of comforting quietude, musing on their own.  
  
'Sir?'  
  
'What now Weaseley?'  
  
'Do you believe in what you are doing now? Do you believe you are on the right side now? The just side?'  
  
Snape scrutinised Ron with renewed interest. There seemed to be grudging respect as he said. 'Yes, I believe it.'  
  
Ron smiled cautiously, 'That's all I need to know.'  
  
'Does it mean the three of you are eager to leave?'  
  
'Not yet.' Harry struggled to put his thoughts into words. 'A few more questions. . . You want to make amends for what you've done. You. . . have done so. You risked everything to be a spy.'  
  
'I risked only my life.'  
  
'And you are risking it again. Why aren't you at least satisfied with what you're doing? Why take your frustrations out of the students? Why are you such a morose bastard?'  
  
'Harry!'  
  
The atmosphere immediately became tense. Snape remained still long enough to make Harry think he was going to be expelled, with or without the school's permission.  
  
'Have you ever betrayed your friends before Potter? No, of course not. The heroic Potter always sticks with his friends, always saves them. You don't understand the wretchedness of a soul who finds that his beliefs throughout his youth, the only things he clings to, fail him. He is wrong. Wrong, do you know how hard the word is? What it carries? He loses his sense, his self, and there is no one to show the way out. His friends, his very friends, he cannot turn to. They will not understand. They will think him mad. Perhaps he, perhaps I am. Be it so, he, I, am thrown into the icy winds. Then, someone, Dumbledore, shows me what to do. He tells me there is a choice. I take it. I help destroy Voldemort. I send my friends to Azkaban,' Snape's voice seemed more and more distant. 'My friends. . . Yes, even I have, or had, friends. I was young once. I was simply a student in Slytherin once. I made friends once. Not people who use you and leave you alone. But friends who may be superior to you in status but stick by you, who explain to you how society works, how you can survive in hypocrisy. Friends who save you from humiliation you are subjected to by fools who kick you just because you are different. Oh yes, I had friends once. Now they are gone. Some are sent to Azkaban, by my own hand. Those who escape, I avoid. It is so difficult to be near those you trust once but know you are separated, forever. By your own hand.'  
  
'Slytherin friends. . .' he went on bitterly, 'Slytherin. . . That name alone is glory and power. To be linked to it is to be proud of it. At least it was so. Then the Dark Lord and all that he brought defiled it. He who could have been famous for his greatness, he whose intellect surpasses even his ancestor's. . . One flaw, and all potential crumbles. The hunger for revenge. Impatience rules, knowledge of superiority twists to sense of supremacy, eccentricity flowers into madness.'  
  
Snape stopped abruptly. The effort had cost him to be out of breath.  
  
Quietness surrounded, but for the three students, this onslaught of confession and insight into the most obscure of wizards caused their hearts to beat in panic. Snape was painfully emotionlessly when he spoke, yet his somewhat incoherent answer was the most harrowing speech they had ever heard. They did not know what else they could say.  
  
Snape roused himself, 'Go. The train will leave in ten minutes. Make sure you complete you assignments in the holidays.'  
  
They stood without a single word, and left.  
  
***  
  
'Hey.' said Ron.  
  
'What?' Hermione asked.  
  
Ron pointed out of the window of the train that was slowing down. 'Welcome back to Hogwarts.' 


	3. Chapter 2

Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh. ~ George Bernard Shaw  
  
Chapter Two  
  
'I wish. . . that the House-Elves can take over our teaching duties sometimes,' Minerva said as she poured herself a cup of hot tea.  
  
The first day of school had passed with its usual alacrity of heat, noise, and chaos. It was at the end of the day that the staff could have a relatively restive period as the students settled in their Common Rooms.  
  
'Indeed,' Albus absently helped himself with Minerva's cup. Gathering the various reports together, he made several announcements before dismissing the staff.  
  
'Oh, and before I forget, Fudge wrote to me to say he will be sending another inspector to our school.'  
  
Amidst the loud protests, Albus' eyes twinkled. He had anticipated their reactions and found he was hitting all the right marks so far.  
  
'Are you agreeing to his request again Albus?' Minerva screeched.  
  
'It wasn't a request Minerva. It was an order.'  
  
'It was a threat Headmaster, and you know it.' Under Severus' smooth tones lay anger. 'Only you would find all this amusing.'  
  
'Now, now Severus. These inspectors are here to ensure that the school has followed the Ministry's instructions regarding the education system.'  
  
'A poor excuse for spying on us Albus. Fudge does not trust us. Ever since you told him we have to go our separate ways, he has been suspicious of your motives. He worries about you more than he does about Voldemort. I agree with Severus. He is using his position to threaten you and control your movements. He thinks you'll influence the students to turn on him.' Jonathan Flitwick wisely observed.  
  
'He hasn't succeeded in finding out anything, has he? Besides, we have good cause to celebrate. Fudge has removed the Dementors from the village. He needs them to guard Azkaban and St. Mungo's. It will appear that more have deserted him over the holidays and pledged their alliance with Voldemort.'  
  
'Did he expect anything else? Oh, I forgot. He sent an invitation to the Dementors for hugs and laughter last week,' said Poppy sarcastically.  
  
'When will he arrive Albus?' Ianthe Sinistra asked irritably. The last inspector had insisted on bringing back her records on the latest movements of the stars. Everyone knew he had thought there were plans encoded in them.  
  
'Soon,' Albus waved his hand carelessly, 'There's nothing to worry about. We shall be our usual merry selves.'  
  
A few of them snorted and his eyes twinkled even more.  
  
'If he crosses any line, I'll hex him and send him tied to the worst broomstick back to Fudge,' Meredith Hooch growled.  
  
'I am touched by your loyalty Meredith. But it is better to see how he is before judging. It is late. I'm sure you will need some sleep. Good night.'  
  
Dismissed, the staff rose and headed for the door, but not without hearing Albus muse, 'Besides, what if he brought some lemondrops, or the best Earl Grey? We'll have to make him feel welcome.' Minerva gave Ianthe Sprout an exasperated look.  
  
The staff room was now empty, save for Albus sitting at the table with his back facing the fireplace and one other. He looked at the darkest corner of the room. 'What is it Severus?'  
  
He could not see the young professor clearly but perceived that he shifted his position from where he stood. 'I don't like this Albus.'  
  
'My dear boy, the arrangements have been made. We shall do fine. The inspector should be the least of your worries.'  
  
'It is. But it doesn't mean I have to like it,' came the stubborn reply.  
  
Albus sighed, 'Come into the light Severus. Let me see you.'  
  
The figure froze for a while. Then, Severus emerged form the shadows. 'Does anything ever escape you?'  
  
'Too many things.' Albus took in the dark rings underneath the overly bright eyes and pale skin. 'You look dreadful.'  
  
'It doesn't help to state the obvious,' Severus sat beside him, 'Especially when I had the same treatment from your precious trio.'  
  
'Ah. . . and how were the Gryffindors and Slytherins today?'  
  
'The same. Although Malfoy and his troops were surprised that Potter did not take up their challenge of sabotaging the Slytherins' ingredients. You should see the atrocious way Thomas pounded Crabbe right in front of my eyes after the latter made a sly remark about Miss Brown. I deducted twenty points and ten more when Thomas claimed he didn't deserve it.'  
  
'Severus. . .' Albus smiled ruefully, not knowing what to say.  
  
'It doesn't matter. I put up with that infamous Gryffindor naivete of seeing everything in black and white.'  
  
'They are only children. It takes time to learn.'  
  
'How much time do they have before. . . I had to deduct fifty points from Miss Granger for helping Longbottom again.'  
  
'Was it fifty points because she helped him or because of her showing concern towards your health?'  
  
Snape smirked, 'You are right. I shall deduct a hundred points from her tomorrow.'  
  
'I know you will find a way. However, Minerva has told me she will counterbalance the score by rewarding Miss Granger for her excellent assignment.'  
  
'That is disappointing.' Facing him, Severus caught Albus looking at him with anxiousness. 'Albus! Please, I've had enough from Potter and the couple today. You don't have to worry about me. You never told me,' he paused, 'You never told me why you wanted to tell them.'  
  
'Surely you have figured it out?'  
  
'If you mean you want to punish me for treating them unkindly. . .'  
  
'Severus. . .'  
  
'I hate the pity I see in their eyes. I don't deserve it. The next thing I know, they start forgiving me for things they did not see me do.'  
  
Albus looked at him as Severus looked down at his hands. It struck him that deep down, Severus did not fully believe that he deserved his trust, and was afraid that. . .  
  
'You will not turn Severus.'  
  
'How do you know that, when I don't know it myself?'  
  
'There is worry, but only for you. There is faith that I have in you,' Albus said sincerely.  
  
'I exposed you to Harry and the others and I know what it must have cost you. I'm sorry.'  
  
'Albus. . .'  
  
'Child, I'm sorry. Truly. I wanted them to stop their night adventures before they aroused anyone's suspicions and compromised your safety. Mostly, however, I wanted them to see you, Severus. As you are. They may not understand you wholly, but they will appreciate and respect you. You deserve that much, Severus, and more.'  
  
'Albus, I didn't do all this to be recognised.'  
  
'I know, and that makes you all the more worthy of recognition and trust. I have faith in you.' Albus repeated.  
  
Severus absorbed this. 'I have to patrol now.'  
  
'Go to sleep.'  
  
'I can't,' said Severus flatly.  
  
'Then some warm milk is required,' Albus called on a House-Elf and forced Severus to empty the glass. Severus remarked dryly, 'Now that is one method I haven't tried.'  
  
'Milk works. Why can't you sleep?'  
  
'I can't.'  
  
'What happens when you try to?'  
  
'I stay awake.'  
  
'Did you try Dreamless Sleeping Potion?'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'It didn't work?'  
  
'Not until the next day when I fell face down on my way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Thank Merlin it was the holidays then.'  
  
'Are you referring to the incident during the weekend? We thought you had fainted.'  
  
'I remember.'  
  
'Severus, what's wrong? What did Voldemort do to you?'  
  
Severus smiled in resignation, 'You deduced it.'  
  
'How could I not? When you regained consciousness from that mysterious fever, your mood blackened for a long period of time. We were alarmed. You did not explain. All we know is Voldemort punished you for not succeeding in producing evidence for the Ministry to prove my connections with the giants. And now, you are telling me you are sufferring from insomnia.'  
  
How to explain? Severus did not think it fair to burden the Headmaster with additional problems, especially his, when there were more pressing matters to be dealt with. Yet, this was Albus Dumbledore. He was honest enough to admit that although he prided in his intense privacy, he was always open with Albus.  
  
'Do you recall the day when I went out for the first time after, as you said, cooping myself in the dungeons and my chambers since I took on teaching?'  
  
'I always wondered how a man could loiter in those haunts of yours for ten months, let alone ten years,' Albus chuckled affectionately, 'Dear, dear, I never thought anyone could make those dungeons any more gothic and chilly. You proved me wrong.'  
  
'And I never thought anyone could make the decorations in the Great Hall any more lurid during Valentine's than Lockhart could. To each his own.'  
  
Severus lapsed into reverie. Albus wondered if the distraction would prevent him from going on. 'To return,' Severus said. 'I didn't know where to go specifically, so I Apparated to the quiet parts in England. The second and last destination was. somewhere in the North. I met a girl.'  
  
Albus wisely refrained from commenting.  
  
'She was fifteen or sixteen at the most. A sweet girl, utterly guileless. She wasn't afraid of me at all. She assumed I was a traveller and showed me around. I tried my best at first to chase her away. For all my expertise in offending and instilling loathing in people, she simply smiled at me. If anything, she was even more persistent in making me feel more welcome and comfortable. She was a wild little thing, like a nymph. I know magic wasn't involved, but I seemed as though I had no choice but to follow her. Later on, I realised I wanted to. For once, there was a person who didn't know me, who couldn't judge me. She had a serenity I've never seen in anyone else. I wanted to be a part of it. It. . . it made me feel free. When I was with her, amongst the most untainted scenery I've ever seen, a calm and peace I'd never felt before filled me. I spent the rest of the day and half the night with her, with her just talking on and on. Her voice's haunting Albus.'  
  
'You didn't converse with her?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'That is inconsiderate,' Albus looked at Severus nervously, 'Did Voldemort. . .'  
  
'No, he knows nothing of it,' Severus suddenly felt tired. Perhaps the milk worked after all. 'I told you because those are the memories I treasure most. When Voldemort first fell, everyone seemed to have learnt to move on. I didn't. I didn't know why I was in this world. I was empty, passing every day without aim. She showed me unintentionally that what I did against Voldemort was worth it. The world became a safer place for Muggles. I'm still not proud of what I did, but I've reconciled my conscience with myself to a certain extent. To me, it is sufficient to know an innocent girl is living because of what we did. With the memories she gave me, I was able in these years of teaching, to deal with life.'  
  
'What Voldemort did to me was a new, morbid fancy of his. He tempered on the Memory Charms such that I would forget what I value most. I suppose he found it entertaining to see me cast even lower in the abyss.'  
  
'If that were the case, how is it that you can still have these memories?'  
  
'The Dark Lord is not only vengeful, but also intelligent. Where lies the pleasure of seeing someone who forgets everything and thus feels nothing? By making me understand the memories I possess have been partially erased, he makes me feel frustrated at my inability. I have a vague sense of what happened, but. . . but Albus, I've forgotten the most important parts. I've forgotten where it was exactly that I've met her. I don't know how she looks like. The impressions she left on my mind remain, but she's gone. Her essence is in me, but she's missing somehow. It's like a barrier. I rack my head in vain to break it so that I can remember. But I can't!' Severus angrily shoved his glass from the table, 'And I want it back Albus. I want what keeps my sanity back. He's already robbed me of my soul. He doesn't have the right to rule my mind as well.'  
  
Albus allowed some minutes for Severus to calm down. He said, 'I wondered sometimes, what happened on that day you went out. You came back with such a light in your eyes I dared not hope for. I can see how tightly your guilt still grips you but since then you've gained your confidence back. You left as a ghost and came back alive, as Severus Snape again. Strength, temper and all.' He chuckled, 'I didn't know I have a Muggle girl to thank for it.'  
  
Severus' wry humour asserted itself, 'I can appreciate the irony.'  
  
'She must be twenty-two now.'  
  
Severus gave a non-committal cough.  
  
'Yes, well,' Albus smiled warmly, 'It'll be fine Severus. I'll ask Jonathan if he can help.'  
  
'Thank you, but I doubt it. Tom Riddle may not excel in Potions, but he is certainly a forerunner in Charms. Don't worry about me.'  
  
'Don't. . . There's something else.'  
  
'Yes,' said Severus, 'I received an invitation to Lucius'. It's five days from today.'  
  
'Severus, does it help for you to do this again?'  
  
'There's always a chance.' Severus did not add it was a threadbare one at that.  
  
Albus bowed his head. Severus was shocked to see the great wizard's shoulders slump.  
  
'Albus. . .'  
  
Albus sat up straight, all signs of age vanished. He smiled encouragingly.  
  
'I'm all right. The question is, will you be?'  
  
Albus lifted the Silencing Spell.  
  
As they walked to the door, Severus said softly, 'I'll live.'  
  
***  
  
Adela woke up to the aromatic hints of toast and buttered eggs. Mildly surprised, she pushed her bed covers aside, got up and looked around. Seeing none of these items, she went to open her door, and almost stepped on her gift.  
  
Bending down to pick up the breakfast tray, she spied a note slipped under the honey dish. Upon reading it, she sighed and brought the tray in,  
  
{Hope you enjoy it. Graham. P.S. Can we meet for lunch?}  
  
Adela made a mental note to pay Graham Collins in university. Sitting down at her table, she started writing to her uncle and aunt.  
  
Uncle Samuel and Aunt Martha, or the Goodalls as they were known back home, were Adela's closest kin. Although they wanted to join her in the city, she assured them that she was fine. She did not disappoint them.  
  
For the past four years, Adela managed to adapt herself to the completely different environment of the city. In many ways, she still missed the little village tucked in the valley, cut off by the hustle and bustle of urban life. She wished for the light-heartedness of childhood when she could abandon all the shackles of reality and immerse herself in the fantastical wilderness of nature. The visions of the luscious green hills, clouds lined with golden rays, and birds singing with the winds roved in her mind, visions that cannot be captured by the finest artist and his watercolours. Yet, university life suited her, and she was contented. History, music and mathematics appealed to her immensely.  
  
Looking at the clock, she decided it was time to leave.  
  
As she headed downstairs, she paused to admire the intricate paintings on the walls. Reaching the lobby of the inn, she noticed the usual activity amongst the lodgers and their housekeepers. The breakfast counter on left side of the first floor was packed.  
  
'Mornin' sweetheart,' chirped the innkeeper.  
  
'Morning Ma'am Robb,' said Adela brightly.  
  
''Ow many times? Call me.' but Adela had already left the building, smiling as she welcomed another day. There was something oddly touching about the way the girl derived innocent pleasure from mundane things. As she rode her bicycle along the sidewalk, she waved at familiar faces, greeted the elderly sitting on park benches and viewed with wide-eyed wonder at all around her as if for the first time.  
  
The hints of autumn were in the air. It was cooler now. The leaves were in deep shades of green. Flowers persisted in emitting enticing smells and colours in the park Adela passed through. Children chased each other as they played their games in all seriousness, yelling cries of victory and despair. Folks lost the strained look they had during summer. Being early, there were still not many cars on the roads and the noise was not yet deafening. Adela wondered if she would have time to visit a teashop as she passed it. Wonderful tea and pastries were sold there. Already, she could imagine herself sitting in a corner in the afternoon, sipping oolong at her leisure while poring over her notes.  
  
Sooner than she expected, she arrived at her university.  
  
***  
  
'Friend, oh friend!' Lindsay Shelley came up noisily beside her classmate.  
  
Adela grinned, 'What is it this time? Shakespeare?'  
  
'Romeo and Juliet! Friend, oh friend, I have to start seeping in all the melodramas in our sorry world. Life, oh life, and not death. Oh Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?' Lindsay imagined herself in shimmering robes and covered with layer after layer of shawl.  
  
'Mercutio,' prompted Adela.  
  
'A plague o' both your houses. I am sped. I am peppered. A plague o' both your houses!'  
  
'Ah, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She has prophesised my dear friend's unprecedented success on stage.'  
  
'You should come for the auditions too.'  
  
'What, I!' cried Adela in jest, 'I've never acted before Lindsay. Nevertheless, I shall accompany you to show my support.'  
  
Lindsay observed Adela as she arranged her books in the locker. When she had first met her she could tell straightaway that Adela was no city dweller. Everything about her proclaimed her background. She seemed to bring with her the clean, refreshing breeze of the countryside. Her dress- up, while not old-fashioned, was certainly not of the trends in the city. Plain and simple, she did not put on cosmetics or any type of accessory.  
  
Not that she needed any. With pale blond hair that flowed with the wind, unusual grey eyes that sparkled and pierced one's heart, flawless fair skin and willowy figure, Adela had to be the most angelic girl in the world. Lindsay wondered why she had few friends, she being Adela's closest. Part of it may be due to the snobbery or jealousy of other students. Part of it on the other hand, had to do with Adela herself. Adela was a very warm person and was worldly wise when necessary. Yet an ethereality which surrounded her produced two kinds of reactions: fear in some and allurement in others, like that of a moth which could not help being drawn to the street-lamp. It made her less approachable for some and Adela did not bother to seek friends out. She let everything take its course. Their friendship for one began with Lindsay running and crashing into Adela while she was reading her notes along the passage. For others, however, she was irresistible.  
  
'How was lunch?' asked Lindsay.  
  
She hastily put on a bland look when Adela turned slowly to face her.  
  
'What, pray, is so interesting about lunch?' Adela's voice was deliberately hushed.  
  
Lindsay was always caught surprised by Adela's sporadic sternness. For a tense moment, they stared at each other. Then, Lindsay started giggling, and Adela smiled along.  
  
'You know who the culprit is? Alright, I confess!' Lindsay flung her arms up.  
  
'It would have been so much easier if you told me about Graham.'  
  
'It wouldn't have been more hilarious, would it? So, did you meet him?'  
  
'I paid him in class, took a knife and went in search of you. Only, you were having lessons yourself, so I waited.'  
  
'It's not my fault.'  
  
'Oh, yes, Spartacus, it is.'  
  
'He followed me around! Most days, I will be highly flattered if a man clung onto me. But he only wanted your address. In truth, he was getting annoying after one week. I figured it was either you or me who has to suffer.'  
  
'You could have told me,' said Adela.  
  
'What would you have done?'  
  
'Tell him it was useless, and save us the embarrassment we just had. I don't know how to handle situations like this properly.'  
  
'You,' Lindsay pointed at Adela, 'are plain priggish. You've been rejecting every invitation I know of.'  
  
'I'm not interested in dating Lindsay.'  
  
'We've covered that ground before. But let's try again. Are you attached?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'What's the problem then?'  
  
'They are all really nice, but I haven't fallen in love with them.'  
  
'Love! Who's talking about love? We're talking about dates. Dates that bring people together to see if they like each other.'  
  
'You don't have to start dating to know if you like a person.'  
  
Lindsay let the squabble rest as Adela turned back to close her locker. Someday, she would find who The One in Adela's life was, because, she knew, or so-help-her-God, that there was one. Adela had never mentioned him in the three years they had known each other, but whenever she was asked to comment on a certain guy, the answer was always, 'Fine.' The opposite sex was seen to be the same. Yet there was a glow in Adela whenever one talked of love, and it certainly was not the kind produced by dreams or imagination. It may be that Adela, who was unbelievably dense in these important matters, was unaware that in her heart, there was already someone who had placed himself firmly there. Lindsay only wished she could help her friend. That way, they could have a double date. This led her to remember asking her boyfriend, Henry J. Watson, who was also Adela's friend, why he was not attracted to Adela. His reply had relieved and saddened her.  
  
'She's beautiful Lindsay, there's no denying it. But she doesn't belong. It's just this gut feeling, telling me she's meant for something else. I mean, look at her, talk to her. She's too perfect, too delicate for this place. I don't mean to sound dramatic and I can't explain this well. I think you know it too since you seem hurt by what I've said. She's more like a combination of ideal attributes than a real being.'  
  
'But she is real!' Lindsay had protested.  
  
'And that's what makes it worse,' Henry had concluded, 'She's isolated in a way no one can comprehend.'  
  
'Penny for your thoughts deary.'  
  
Lindsay snapped out of her reverie to find Adela smiling, but the worry in her eyes betrayed her.  
  
'Sorry,' Lindsay grinned ruefully, 'I was thinking about Henry.'  
  
Adela relaxed. 'You,' she chided gently, 'are hopeless.'  
  
'And you, who believes love to be forever, are a hopeless romantic.' Lindsay tucked Adela's hand into the crook of her arm when a sudden maternal instinct overcame her. 'It's why we make such a lovely couple.' They laughed as they left their university for home.  
  
***  
  
Severus cursed himself inwardly. He should be accustomed to it by now, 'it' being a mild term to describe a party such as Lucius Malfoy's.  
  
Why is it, Severus gritted his teeth as he walked past room after room, that Lucius deems it elegant to have bungling, drunk men sprawled over every inch of furniture available?  
  
The palace of the Malfoys dated back to the late seventeenth century, when royalty still ruled and Napoleon had not conquered Louis XVIII. The Malfoys had their French origins traced back to the dark and disturbing Middle Ages. Though not of royal blood, they became intimately associated with His Majesty and were at their height of power then. As the years passed, the number in the family dwindled. Many in the Muggle line were lost in war and scandal, while the wizards left France in the fifteenth century to establish themselves in England. Bent on power they neglected their families. Now, there were only two Malfoy families left in this world, the one not acknowledging the other.  
  
One could see that the Malfoy wizards did not lose their cultural background despite the crossover of countries. The gardens surrounding the paths leading to the main doors of the mansion were brimming with fleur-dys- lys and wild specimens which originated from France, Cannes to be precise. The palace itself was designed with Classical aspirations in mind. Polished marble made up part of the lower walls and steps. The long French windows were smuggled in during the Revolution when hundreds of nobles fled Paris for England. Climbing up the flight of twelve steps, one came to the imposing oak doors framed with tasteful gold leaves. The family motto on the coat of arms, which hung atop, must be read with objectivity. [Ne pas prendre de sang si vous pouvez l'aider] Cornelius Fudge saw it as the reflection of a highly respectable, philanthropic and honourable family whereas Severus Snape knew, through his relationship with Lucius and Lucius senior, that it meant not dirtying one's hands in any business by using more efficient and refined methods such as casting what are now termed as the Unforgivables.  
  
When one entered the palace, he could not but be awed at it. Looking larger and more grandiose than it did outside, the bronze floors were polished such that one could see his image clearly. Every item, from the bust on the table to the chandelier high up the painted ceiling, was carefully chosen and harmonised with the surrounding. Behind each piece of furniture was a history of the ancestors and their achievements. The rooms were properly designated for various functions. The dining room, guest hall, public library and servants' quarters were situated on the first floor; the sleeping chambers and private library and study on the second. The corridors were dimly lit, and the walls were either covered with mirrors or paintings, both portraits and landscapes.  
  
All in all, the Malfoy Palace boasted of magnificence and the family's wealth, but Severus did not care. The palace was simply a sharp contrast to the activities carried out within.  
  
His stomach lurched forward when a person slumped across his path. Glassy- eyed, with bloated face and mouth opened with silent horror, the boy was merely thirteen by his looks.  
  
And very much dead. Severus stepped over the body and walked on, radiating no sign of remorse but deep inside, he felt like punching every Death-Eater in sight.  
  
I suppose that includes myself then. Severus gave a irrepressible snicker that threatened to become a sob. Years of self-discipline sobered him up as he stepped into the public library.  
  
The small band of wizards considered as the lords of the rest of Voldemort's minions had already gathered inside. He heard the door shut behind him  
  
'Severus, so glad you can make it. We were placing bets on your arrival or absence.' Lucius Malfoy indicated a seat graciously and waved a glass to Severus. 'I hope you are comfortable.'  
  
Severus nodded curtly. If there were anything good no. . . worth admiring about Lucius, it was that he was a very generous host, albeit insincere.  
  
'Wonderful. Let us hear each other's report, shall we?'  
  
Everyone nodded tentatively. Since the return of the Dark Lord, the Death- Eaters who had been with him the first time worried about the probability of his vengeance. At each party thereof, Lucius would lead the small group into the library so they could exchange news of whether anyone had been summoned individually or possessed information not privy to others. They were certainly suspicious of another's treachery, but under the present circumstances, alliance pledged was more of an asset than arrogant independence.  
  
Severus processed the reports in his mind. They were meager, as expected. Lord Voldemort was not so much of a fool to not know most of his followers were no longer loyal. Only fear and thirst for their own power kept them to him.  
  
The meeting ended swiftly. The group filed out, leaving Lucius and Severus alone. They could hear a new outburst of activity. Familiar screams were drowned by high laughter and gurgling of blood. Lucius smiled contentedly.  
  
'Shut the door,' Severus uttered irritably.  
  
Lucius moved languidly in his chair as he took out his wand.  
  
Severus felt strained whenever he was with Lucius. They were part of an elite group when they were students once. Lucius was the one who introduced him into it, for he recognised his talent. He was also the one who seemed more perceptible to his mood swings than anyone else. They laughed together once, in complete accordance with each other. They had no secrets to hide from each other since they played their tricks on the Gryffindors together. At all times, they covered each other's back. Although Severus found his own unique class and mannerisms at the end, he did start by imitating Lucius' courtly behaviour. Now that they were adults and no longer held the same convictions, Severus knew he could not return to the same plane of relationship on his part, despite his desire to. He was too appalled and repulsed by what they did. Nonetheless, he had to keep up the façade as things did not change in Lucius' opinion, at least, he hoped so.  
  
Lucius laughed softly. 'You never change, do you Severus? You never care for these parties, even when we were young.'  
  
'They have their usefulness,' said Severus smoothly.  
  
'But you've never discovered their pleasures. Come, come, just this time, join in the recreation.'  
  
'We've discussed it before Lucius. You know my sentiments.'  
  
'Too well, only too well,' Lucius feigned disappointment, then said casually, 'I came across a rather charming woman tonight.'  
  
'What would Narcissa think?' Severus matched his tone.  
  
Lucius gave a mirthful snort, 'She's in Paris enjoying herself in the block- headed stage actor's apartment. You know very well she only returns during Draco's stay here. I would like to punish that wimp, but I suppose he's doing me a favour by getting rid of the bitch for me.'  
  
'How uncharacteristically magnanimous of you.'  
  
'It saves time and effort.'  
  
'Naturally.'  
  
'How is Draco?'  
  
'I regret to say his intellect and cunning are nowhere near his father's. Ambition aside, he craves too much attention.'  
  
'Ah. . . that is unfortunate,' Lucius frowned. 'I wonder. . .'  
  
'You can't.'  
  
'Why not?'  
  
'Praecelus is an illegitimate child. Acknowledging him will damage your reputation and status.'  
  
'How is he doing in Hogwarts?'  
  
'For a Hufflepuff, he's passed all expectations. He's more advanced than some of his seniors.'  
  
'He's a Malfoy,' said Lucius proudly, 'I suppose I'll need to think more about this.'  
  
You won't touch him Lucius. I know your second son better than you do. Sentilia Livis has brought him up well. She was right not to let you near him.  
  
'Oh come, I'm playing a very bad host to talk to you about family matters. Now, can I entice you with the woman I've mentioned?'  
  
'No,' said Severus flatly.  
  
'You are a very difficult guest Severus. We've picked a number of strays and vagabonds today. You wouldn't believe the number of filth and vermin that populate this country. We're doing our utmost to clean her up.'  
  
'I wish you the best of luck,' Severus stood up, 'I have to go.'  
  
'Pity,' but Lucius made no attempt to stop him.  
  
Severus averted his eyes from the surroundings and hurried out. No one paid attention to him. Twice Severus could not prevent himself from seeing some Death-Eater stripping a Muggle's clothes away as he proceeded to devour her.  
  
Look ahead, look ahead. . . Severus repeated the mantra to himself.  
  
When he Apparated back to the outskirts of Hogwarts, he willed the choking smell of death, and whimpers of pleas away.  
  
He went straight to his rooms after seeing Albus.  
  
Author's Note:  
  
The conversation between Albus and Severus about Severus taking Dreamless Sleep Potion is modified a bit from the episode "Night Five" in the season three of West Wing:  
  
STANLEY Have you tried taking a sleeping pill?  
  
BARTLET The third night.  
  
STANLEY It didn't work?  
  
BARTLET Not 'til the next morning in the middle of a national security briefing.  
  
STANLEY Oh. That's no good.  
  
[Ne pas prendre de sang si vous pouvez l'aider] is French for [Take no blood if you can help it].  
  
Praecelus is derived from the Latin word 'praecellens' which means distinguished, excellent.  
  
Sentilia is from 'sententia' which is sentiment. 


	4. Chapter 3

Things which matter most should never be at the mercy of things which matter least. ~ Johann von Goethe  
  
Chapter 3  
  
'It's shameful, the way they run this school,' said Draco Malfoy pompously the next morning, 'If Father has his way, he will. . .'  
  
Years of practice helped Harry to shut out Malfoy's whining. Instead, he concentrated on what Hagrid had to teach.  
  
'All yeh have ter do, is ter hold the little one round his tummy.' Rubeus Hagrid demonstrated, 'Grab 'im firmly so he can't move. . .'  
  
Hagrid's lessons positively scintillated year by year. Although his passion made dangerous magical creatures predominate classes, he made a point to show occasionally he also extended his love for other fascinating, much gentler and certainly much prettier creatures that appealed more to the students. Harry suspected it was a form of reward and compensation, or maybe Grubbly-Plank had a hand in it.  
  
It was one of those rare days and everyone was drawn to the rare sight of a pup of the Guardian Hounds species. Legend had it that Guardian Hounds protected the Four Founders against the Dark creatures living in the Dark Forest, when it had been even more dangerous than it was at present, whilst they were busy building Hogwarts' School. Hagrid must have had spent a lot of effort procuring the pup. There were fifteen left in Great Briton. At four months, with the finest coat of silver fur, tawny eyes, and the most incredulously adorable ears, the tiny pup was already showing the fearlessness renowned among his species. Oblivious of the huge number of people surrounding him, he licked Hagrid's palm as Hagrid explained the history that stretched over thousands of years.  
  
'Guardian Hounds,' Malfoy scoffed, 'They are nothing special. Why, I've seen them when I was five. They are mean things. They bit me.'  
  
Harry wondered, One would think that under the circumstances we grew in, Malfoy would be less childish, and shook with suppressed laughter when Hermione retaliated, 'Maybe they bit you because Guardian Hounds see the blackness of a person's heart.'  
  
Malfoy spun around with his wand in hand, 'Watch what you say, Granger.'  
  
'Quick to take offence, aren't we?' Ron remarked, 'Careful where you point that Malfoy, you wouldn't want detention with Hagrid, would you? Or would you like Furnunculus and Jelly-Legs on you? Crabbe can tell you how they felt together.'  
  
Malfoy and his cronies had not changed either. At every opportunity, they would gloat over any unfortunate accident which occurred in the wizarding world, and frighten the younger students with their bullying tactics. Insults were aimed especially at Harry and his friends. It was a reckless move, but Malfoy was an unwise person. He did not hide his sentiments and all but declared that his sympathies lay with Voldemort.  
  
However, ever since the incident in the train at the end of their fourth year, they were more careful not to pick a fight. Verbal abuse was more easily escapable than duels. They had no wish to appear worse for wear as in the train.  
  
Malfoy scowled, and walked haughtily away. Ron patted Hermione's hand and winked at Harry. They turned their attention back to Hagrid, who winked at them when others did not notice.  
  
***  
  
High above the grounds, Severus stepped away from the window. He had witnessed enough. He removed the 'Sensitia' spell he had cast upon himself previously and went to sit in front of Albus.  
  
'Do you not worry about Messrs. Malfoy and Potter?'  
  
'No,' Albus chuckled, 'The little confrontation the two groups have everyday are part and parcel of house rivalry.'  
  
'It will progress into something worse. In another year, they will graduate and officially choose their side.'  
  
'Until then, we shall protect them, and further on if we can. You have something you wish to tell me.'  
  
'Yes.' Severus found it hard to say it. 'It has occurred to me that the Dark Lord no longer trusts his first followers. He places more faith in the new generation, which is much too eager to prove their worth and will do anything to please him. Through the meetings at Lucius', I realise we've been pushed aside. It is only a masquerade that we still command all the members. Voldemort's given vague instructions to us whenever we carry out missions. What is worse, he calls us at the eleventh hour to instruct us to do them.'  
  
'I remember the St. Mungo's incident.'  
  
'I notice some of our supposed subordinates seem more prepared than we are about what he has in mind. They know what to expect and what they have to look out for during our attacks.'  
  
'Who are they?'  
  
'I'll compile a list for you after I learn more.'  
  
'Very well.'  
  
'In short, we're at a dead end.' Severus said what he feared to say. 'There is no way I can be of more use to you other than to tell you who the recent wizards initiated are. And that information we have to treat with caution as taking too many of them at one time will alert Voldemort that there is a spy in his ranks.'  
  
Albus sighed, 'We have to manage. At least we can be thankful that Olympe and Hagrid have secured our relations with the giants.'  
  
'Yes, the Dark Lord was annoyed with that.'  
  
'What a way you have with words Severus,' said Albus lightly.  
  
Severus smiled, 'I suppose Voldemort doesn't know what annoyance is. What about Tom Riddle?'  
  
'I don't think anyone knew who he truly was. He was always the well- mannered boy everyone thought him to be.'  
  
'Including yourself?'  
  
'I had my doubts,' Albus conceded, 'but I never thought he meant harm. I didn't know his past.'  
  
'It would be better if he had never known it either.'  
  
'True, but before he learnt of his origin, he was certainly an embittered lad already. His charm was simply a tool and disguise. He's delved too deep into the Dark Arts to surface again. . . Is he still using corpses?'  
  
'Yes, MacNair led some to excavate more out two nights ago. The Dark Lord requires less bodies now, but I deduce he will need them to sustain his strength for the rest of his life, or if he has his way, forever,' Severus smiled grimly, 'A true Death-Eater.'  
  
'Are you still the only one doing those potions for him?'  
  
'I'm not certain. He does not summon me as often as he did before and I did give my notes to him. As I've mentioned, he needs less of them now.' Severus said in a clinical tone, 'In some ways, it's more difficult than making Wolfsbane. One has to have steady hands and precise timing to do them. The. . . ingredients vary from one body to another and that interrupts the process as the effect can only be seen after the body parts are added into the cauldron. If the potion fails, one has to start all over again. The worst case I've endured was going through seven bodies before coming to the appropriate one.'  
  
Severus knew he was rattling off, grateful that Albus tolerated his repeating the procedure. It helped relieve him of the disgust and nausea he felt whenever he thought of the cold, ashen corpses he had to touch and dissect in order to serve his master.  
  
'This is a most unsuitable topic for such a sunny day,' Albus said when Severus finished. 'Come with me to the kitchen for a cup of tea.'  
  
'The House-Elves will just make me more irritable Headmaster,' Severus protested, 'They are overly eager to wait on us, much to Miss Granger's disappointment.'  
  
'It is a good thing she has given up trying, is it not? What will we do without their sumptuous meals.' Albus walked round the table and hoisted Severus up. 'Come,' he said cheerfully, 'A bowl of clam chowder and lamp chops with mint sauce should do wonders for your stomach and expression.'  
  
'And shock the students when the sour-faced Potions Master dances into class with delight and reward them all with points? Poppy will have her hands full of students who have fainted.' Severus paused at the doorway, 'It is an excellent idea Albus. I shall have more time to myself while the brats are recuperating. Thank you for the inspiration.'  
  
'Severus. . .' Albus laughed, 'Do you dislike teaching so much?'  
  
Severus replied solemnly, 'Teaching was the only position proposed to me. I had no choice in my career prospects. Yes, I think I can safely say there is a certain resentment regarding my tedious and narrow path of life.'  
  
Albus stared at him and Severus felt the corner of his mouth turn up into a familiar sardonic smile. He could not help throwing the famous omnipotent wizard into disconcertion sometimes. Besides, fond of him as he may be, he loathed the students and their wild antics. Not to mention the devastating hormones that seemed to burst out as they grew older.  
  
'You are completely heartless sometimes.'  
  
Severus grinned unrepentantly, 'Thanks.'  
  
Albus chuckled, spoke to the young man as though he were a naughty boy, 'Come with me to the kitchen laddie,' and proceeded to give him a friendly shove.  
  
Severus complied grudgingly, walking side by side with Albus. He mulled over his options.  
  
'Headmaster?'  
  
'Yes, Severus.'  
  
'Thank you.'  
  
'You are welcome, my lad. Very welcome.'  
  
***  
  
Adela slipped into a booth quietly. She had finally found time to come to 'Alcotts' Tea Shop' -serving traditional meals and pastries since 1946 to the delight of all customers, in and out lovely England - that day.  
  
No sooner had she settled down, when a plump, robust woman of fifty appeared beside her.  
  
'Welcome to Alcotts' Tea Shop, Miss, serving traditional. . .'  
  
'Thanks,' Adela grinned, 'Charmed as I am by the grand history as you are proud of it Mrs. Alcott, you might enhance your prompt service by taking down my orders. I'm hungry.'  
  
'Impertinent chit. I've been taking care of you these four years and this is what I get. Why, you have skipped breakfast today again I've reckoned. You should take care of your health.'  
  
'Really Rose, I had no idea you were so protective over me,' Adela's teasing belied the fact that she was touched by Mrs. Alcott's concern.  
  
'My home away from home,' she said happily when her late lunch was served. It comprised of green pea soup and lamp chops. 'What will I do without this place?'  
  
'Find another hole I suppose. Elves adapt easily.'  
  
'Madam!'  
  
Mrs. Alcott sniffed, 'You are elfish Adela. Especially so as Halloween approaches.'  
  
'Halloween's two months away.'  
  
'That's right. Those large business franchises are already preparing to make money out of it. Did you see the decorations around the corner? Or the costumes and treats being sold? Anyway, will you be heading home before or after the season?'  
  
'I'm graduating in a month's time. I shall leave soon after.'  
  
'And what are your plans?'  
  
'I may teach at the village.'  
  
'Does that mean you won't come back?'  
  
'I will visit you and the others.'  
  
'I shall hold you to it. Enjoy your meal.'  
  
Mrs. Alcott gave a peck on Adela's cheek and walked briskly away to another table when she spied a customer sitting down.  
  
Adela ate with relish. Having the rest of the day to herself, she sipped her tea at leisure as she looked out the window to view the hustle and bustle on the streets.  
  
Putting her cup down, she waited for Mrs. Alcott's helper to clear the table before taking out her folder from her bag. Lessons were more or less wrapped up but she wanted no odds and ends left undone. She marvelled at the years passed. Cliché as it sounded, it seemed only yesterday that she left her village for the first time to explore the world outside. As she arranged her notes and wrote additional ones to supplement them, she recalled her pleasant stay here and was wont to leave. She reminded herself, therefore, that she could return if she wanted to.  
  
The day was drawing to an end by the time she left the shop. Riding her bicycle, she screeched to a halt a few metres later when a little boy tottered in front of her.  
  
'Hello!' Adela cried, her heart thumping fast. She got off her bicycle and knelt beside the boy, 'What do you think you are doing young man?'  
  
The boy stared at her. Then he bent down to pick a small brown ball. Palm outstretched, he showed it to her proudly and said, 'I got it for my birthday.'  
  
'Did you drop it?'  
  
'No, I threw it and it landed here. I came to collect it.'  
  
'It's dangerous to run out onto the pavement like you did. What if I did not stop in time? You would have been hurt.'  
  
'I won't.'  
  
'How would you know?'  
  
'My ball protects me.'  
  
Adela smiled, 'Then it must be a very special magical ball.'  
  
'It is. It has a ward on it.'  
  
'Ah! And what does the ward do?'  
  
'It wards off people. You will stop if you ride your bicycle closer to it, even if I'm not here,' the boy spoke importantly, 'Only I can touch it.'  
  
'I see. You must like this ball very much.'  
  
'Yes. It helps me see any place I like. All I do is hold it.'  
  
'Can I see the places too, if you let me?'  
  
The boy looked at her with large solemn dark eyes, 'You can't. You are non- magical.'  
  
Adela was disappointed. 'What a pity. How does one become magical?'  
  
'You have to be a witch.'  
  
Adela asked, 'Is it too late to become a witch?'  
  
'Yes, you have to be born magical you see.'  
  
Their discussion was interrupted by a female voice, 'Esmond! There you are!'  
  
Adela looked up to see a tall woman dressed in an elegant suit walking hurriedly towards them. Smiling to ease the anxious mother, she carried Esmond in her arms and returned him to her.  
  
'No harm done, madam.'  
  
'Thank you so much. Esmond loves walking on his own and I was in the post- office when he ran out. I'm so worried that I'll lose him sometimes.'  
  
'You just have to take more precautions.'  
  
'I will.'  
  
'He's delightful,' said Adela, 'His speech is excellent for a child at his age.'  
  
'He turned four last week.'  
  
'Indeed. He told me all about his magical ball he received on his birthday.'  
  
Adela was surprised to see alarm cross the lady's face. The woman quickly composed herself.  
  
'He has a full imagination,' said the lady casually, 'I suppose he told you about the ball enabling him to see places.'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'What's im-agi-nation?' asked Esmond.  
  
'I'll explain later,' promised his mother. She turned back to Adela.  
  
'My husband and I travel frequently and Esmond is inheriting his father's taste for adventure. He loves to imagine himself in Never-Never Land. . .'  
  
'And Hogwarts!' the little boy helpfully contributed.  
  
The lady looked at Adela apologetically, 'It's a school for witches and wizards.'  
  
'Yes, you have to be born magical to qualify I surmise,' Adela smiled.  
  
The lady's tone shook, 'How did you know?'  
  
'Your child told me.'  
  
'I. . . I see.'  
  
Adela saw her left hand shake when it entered her bag. Thinking the lady was trying to hide her discomfort, Adela tried to soothe her, 'Children's imagination is a vast and wonderful thing Madam. I'll do nothing to prevent but everything to encourage it if I am allowed to.'  
  
The lady observed her carefully. At last, she stopped shaking. She smiled warmly at Adela, 'You are right. Children have the right to be free of any inhibitions adults have. Did he let you touch his ball?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'You may one day. Who knows?' she took her hand out of her bag and gave it to Adela.  
  
Adela shook it.  
  
'Thank you for looking after Esmond even if it is for a little while. I am glad, Miss. . .?'  
  
'Call me Adela.'  
  
'I am glad, Adela, you have not made me worry that you have compromised the safety of my son and do things I have no wish to do.'  
  
'I certainly hope not. I have no wish to see the police. Good day then. Esmond is a lovely child. When he grows older, enroll him in Hogwarts by all means.'  
  
'Thank you.' The lady gave her a final smile and walked away.  
  
Adela's sharp hearing caught her muttering, although she must not have had heard correctly.  
  
'. . . almost obbliviated her. . .'  
  
Adela turned back to her bicycle. She paused to watch the sun set behind the buildings. She loved sunsets. They were the metaphor for death and melancholy, but she knew a sunset meant that a sunrise would follow. Such was the girl's simple faith in the powers of the universe.  
  
She recalled one particular sunset. She had not seen him for several years since, but she thought about him at times. She hoped he was well.  
  
***  
  
Severus frowned in concentration as he began working on his potions in his office. Dusk was an appropriate time since the students were more subdued at the end of the day. There was relative peace and quiet during this time.  
  
He poured out the thick juice extracted from the poisonous petals of the Globukus Water-Plant into his cauldron, and watched the purple liquid swirl almost hypnotically into a black substance. . .  
  
Black nights, white lightning, nights on fire, thrilling screams amidst the howling winds, the lone wolf crying for his companions, darkness pooling in, the sins drowning him. . . Midnight swimmer, midnight sea, there must be pleasure yielding like one perishing in the snow. . .  
  
Severus found himself flung backward onto the floor. He panted heavily.  
  
Weak, weak! he reprimanded himself. He knew he had not recovered his strength despite appearances to the contrary. He felt exhausted and was more easily lulled into the gloominess and sinister part inside. He wondered what it was like to lose oneself in one's thoughts forever.  
  
Think! Think of something else. Severus frantically calmed himself. The potion was technically done save for storing it. He decided to let it cool in the night before transferring it into bottles. That left him to his own devices. Picking himself up with as much dignity as possible although no one was looking at him, he walked to his study.  
  
There was an unmistakable touch of the Potions Master about the study for those who knew him. The shelves, table and frames of the chairs were made from solid alder wood, the tree of fire, and were after the Victorian style. The shelves were filled with rare books ranging from magical to non- magical. The subjects of the magical ones comprised mostly of Potions, Arithmancy and Charms. One obscure corner revealed books of the Dark Arts. If Tom Riddle had known the latter books he had been seeking were in Severus' possession all the time, he would have had killed Severus before seizing them. It was in the non-magical books that students would be amazed in. They spanned from the history of Muggles to 19th-20th century literature, be it English, French, Russian or even Chinese. The stone floors were not covered. In fact, the large study was quite bare and airy. What few decorations there were, were elegant but not extravagant. Draperies hanging on the walls depicted scenes from the Renaissance period in Florence. What personal belongings there were showed the professor to be a man of exquisite taste. The finest set of stationery was placed neatly on the writing table, together with a chess-set, surprisingly Muggle-made, for the ebony and ivory pieces did not move. The chess-set, if one observed carefully, was actually hand-made in India in the 16th century, India being the country where the game first originated. If the seller was to be believed, the set was a gift from the then emperor to his son and was smuggled out by his servant. Overall, the room was dark, but not oppressive, and like its master, exuded a detached form of arrogance.  
  
The fire which Severus had started before was blazing by the time he entered the study. He took a file out of his drawer. Sinking into his armchair, he drank from a glass of 1962 Vodka as he contemplated the paper he laid on his lap.  
  
He was not an artist. The sketch did not do justice to the subject he had in mind. At least, he thought so. He knew it was useless, that despite every effort, the Charm, or Curse in his-not-so-humble opinion, could not be lifted. The nightly sketches he had begun doing after the chat with Albus in the stuff room was a method to exorcise his pent-up helplessness, to give expression to his voiceless thoughts. He looked down at the latest addition. Like its predecessors, it started off with a faceless portrait with long fine hair flowing down. Each night, he tried to pin down the features on the face.  
  
Picking up his charcoal stick, he sketched out the eyes. No, not quite right, his eyebrows knitted together as he made amendments to them. He snorted over the pathetic attempt. The eyes were too round, the eyelashes too curled. He went on to the nose and lips. The overall work was so hideous he shoved it into the file, and moped over his failure to relinquish hopes of returned memory.  
  
He pondered again why it meant so much to him. He had possessed and lost precious things in life. Why was he determined to cling to this shadow? He was indebted to her, but it was not as though she had saved his life. No, he corrected himself; she had saved him, from himself. Albus was right. He was a listless corpse before he met her. Was that why a memory with no substance held such great importance in him? Did he feel that he owed her, that he would let her down if he did not remember her?  
  
His introspection was threatening to become a vicious cycle. He decided to have an early sleep. He deserved it, after the strenuous exercise of marking his students' work. While Potter would never be a Potions Master, Longbottom was better off as a Squib. He was tempted to throw the essays into the fire and tell the class to write another one. That would teach the brats to show more respect in Potions.  
  
Potter. . . he needed to plan another talking session with the softhearted trio in the near future. It did not do to allow them to keep silent and accept their punishments without complaints. He was taken aback by the sudden turn in their attitude towards him. It was nothing short of miraculous. He had expected Potter, with his self-importance and self- righteousness, to avoid him or treat him with the advantage of high moral ground that he himself had no right to. Weaseley was viewed as the least mature of the three. He always appeared to put everyone into one of the two camps in his mind: the Good and the Gits. Perhaps it was the prejudice he inherited from a Weaseley wizarding background that affected his judgement. Perhaps it was the sensitivity he learnt after having Granger as his girlfriend. Severus recalled the initial hilarity which struck him when he heard of the way the two had. . . resolved their. . . relationship problems, so to speak. Still, they had proven that they were a compatible match so far.  
  
Severus heaved. Who knew? Who cared? He had much on his mind without the need to worry about his students' affairs and what they thought of him.  
  
Resolute, he extinguished the fire and went to his sleeping chamber, the only difference between the latter and the study being that there was a large four-poster bed with silver hangings situated against one wall of the chamber. Changing out, Severus realised that he was still holding his file. He paused, and meditated for a while. Her voice floated in his ears while her image played in front of his eyes. As before, each time he tried to focus the image, it disappeared. Sighing, he placed the file on the chest beside his bed. Once dressed in his nightgown, he turned in.  
  
***  
  
Harry and his friends looked chagrined after Snape had lectured them. In fact, they knew they were looking stupid.  
  
'We didn't know the danger arising from our change in behaviour Professor,' Hermione winced at her squeakiness. 'We didn't think anyone would. . .'  
  
'Notice?' asked Snape in his trademark silky voice, which indicated his mockery.  
  
'We didn't think anyone would think,' Ron admitted to himself that it sounded lame even as he said it.  
  
'Ah, I am enlightened.'  
  
Snape had bellowed over Harry and Ron when they were trying to help each other decipher the sheet of instructions Snape had given out in his lesson that morning. The instructions did not make sense. When the two had tried explaining to Snape what their problem was, Snape had scorned at their apparent lack of intelligence. Hermione, having seen the boys' instructions and confirmed they were different from everyone else's, had joined in to clarify and was brushed aside. When she had persisted, Snape handed out detentions for the three of them to meet him during lunch.  
  
Now, Ron understood Snape's intent, 'Honestly sir, there are many ways to arrange a meeting if you want to. There's no need to embarrass us by giving us detention.'  
  
Snape said dryly, ''Messrs. Potter and Weaseley, Miss Granger, please accept my most sincere invitation to have lunch with me in my office.' How will the class react to it?'  
  
Harry was stunned. Did Snape just crack a joke with them?  
  
'You could have just sent us a note.'  
  
'And risk it being read by others?'  
  
'I think. . .' Ron scowled, 'I think you get a kick out of mistreating us.'  
  
'Really Weaseley. . .' Snape drawled, 'Five points for besmirching my character.'  
  
'Yeah, and you've given me permission to not stomach your taunts and injustice quietly. So there, you bastard,' Ron let out a hoot of self- congratulatory relief and celebration, 'Best news I've heard all week.'  
  
'If you disliked what you were doing, why suppress your indignation?'  
  
'We thought you had enough troubles without us bothering you,' Hermione replied in earnest.  
  
'I surmised as much. Ill-guided as your impulses were, they are acknowledged and appreciated.'  
  
Harry wondered at it. Ron and Hermione seemed to be able to talk to Snape at ease, while he had not spoken up throughout the meeting.  
  
Was it so difficult to bury old grudges? But this is Snape we're talking about, a Death-Eater! Harry screamed in his head.  
  
It was not so simple. This was a Death-Eater turned spy. He had seen what needed to be seen, heard what needed to be heard. Snape was doing what needed to be done not for his own benefits, but for the greater good. The man had honour. Moreover, Harry recalled his first meeting with him, Snape had a heart.  
  
Was it so difficult to look past a person's faults and tarnished past and accept him unconditionally?  
  
'So quiet, Mr. Potter?'  
  
Harry faced Snape and asked fearlessly, 'The thing Ron said about mistreating us, do you really enjoy it?'  
  
Snape's eyes glittered, 'Oh, assuredly. There is nothing more satisfying than having a spat with disrespectful, disobedient students and knowing you have the upper hand. After all, I have the right on my side and the authority to punish you.'  
  
Harry laughed immediately. He felt inexplicably happier, for he felt no anger with Snape's answer. 'Then, you are a bastard.'  
  
He noted that Snape was slightly taken aback. For the first time, he had wrongfooted the Professeor. All due to an innocent laugh.  
  
Harry smiled. Maybe Ron was right. Snape would never be like his father James Potter, but he was an unsung hero. Harry seemed to breathe more freely. His confidence, or daring, grew as well.  
  
'Do you hate me Professor?'  
  
'I should ask you that Potter. On my part, I hate students in general for all manners of reasoning, and I hate the way you think you can handle every danger in your stride. I have no regard for the celebrity-type reputation you don't deserve.'  
  
'On mine, I hate your cruelty and used to think of all sorts of ways to take my revenge whenever you punished us. But I don't hate you. I hate Voldemort.'  
  
Snape frowned, 'Hate is a potent thing. Voldemort instills hate in you. I. . .' He stopped abruptly, 'You will learn in your own time. But always keep your hate in check. It brings the worst out in everyone.'  
  
Harry nodded. Although no one had ever mentioned it explicitly, he knew that the staff feared the darkness they believed he possessed. Who would not possess a darkness after confronting the Evil Lord at age one? As he spent his years in the wizarding world, he felt it harder to keep his rage in check whenever Voldemort attacked.  
  
The inappropriate timing of the growling of Ron's stomach interrupted his thoughts.  
  
'Sorry,' Ron said unabashedly, 'It is lunch, you know.'  
  
Snape conceded, 'It is a long walk to the Great Hall. Never mind, you can have it here.'  
  
The three tried to decline his uncharacteristic gesture of hospitality. They stopped when they saw the House-Elves bring plate after plate of sumptuous food at Snape's request.  
  
'Merlin! Is that why you take your meals here instead of the Great Hall?' Ron gawked at the spread.  
  
'And to have moments of silence to myself. Help yourselves. The House-Elves always overestimate our abilities to finish the food they serve.'  
  
The four of them tucked in and the three students unconsciously slipped into an amiable conversation. Snape kept to himself.  
  
When the bell rang, the three left Snape and headed off for Herbology as though they did it everyday. All in all, they concurred in wonder, it was the best detention they ever had.  
  
Author's Note:  
  
'Midnight swimmer midnight sea' is a song-line from the musical Notre Dame de Paris. Great book. Kinda wild about the show because of it. Hey, everyone's got their own opinion. =  
  
'obbliviated' is a deliberate misspell. You can't expect Adela to know what it really is, right? 


	5. Chapter 4

If you could see your ancestors  
  
All standing in a row,  
  
Would you be proud of them or not,  
  
Or don't you really know?  
  
But here's another question, which  
  
Requires a different view-  
  
If you could meet your ancestors  
  
Would they be proud of you? ~ The Book of Strattons  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Quidditch trials were the same year in and year out, Severus moaned inwardly. Whilst he had participated in Quidditch when he was younger and enjoyed the matches, he could not understand the fervour which possessed others. One would believe the importance of victory was comparable to life itself, watching the students play.  
  
Although he would prefer missing the trials, Meredith had asked the Heads- of-House to help out this year as there was an unprecedented huge number of students trying out.  
  
At present, the students were looking on fearfully as the Potions Master helped Madam Hooch pick the new players for the Slytherin team. Minerva was hovering on her broomstick beside them.  
  
'Well, Severus, will it be six years in a row then? Losing the Quidditch Cup cannot be easy for you and your House,' she said cheerfully.  
  
'Minerva, Minerva, Minerva. It is unlike you to gloat. Where is that irksome Gryffindor nobility?' Severus drawled as he pointed to one boy, indicating for him to try being the Keeper.  
  
'Oh, pray pardon the loss of composure. Riding on a broomstick makes one forget.'  
  
'Naturally,' came Meredith's sultry joiner.  
  
'Alas,' muttered Severus as he ignored the two witches and watched the young Slytherin flying shakily across the field.  
  
'Yes, I can see,' Meredith said. She helped Severus cross the student's name out on the list.  
  
'Take heart Severus,' Minerva smiled. It was her turn to pick out new Gryffindor players, 'At least there are twenty more you have yet to audition.  
  
Severus said demurely, 'Of course.'  
  
Minerva turned sharply to face him. Severus' expression was one of unfair blandness. She shook her head and flew off to meet the Gryffindor team.  
  
Severus smirked. Then, he pondered over the choices he had. There were strong players who would strengthen the team. Their weakness, however, lay in their Seeker. Malfoy had his chances every year. Each year, he let his worthless pride interfere with his playing when Slytherin was against Gryffindor.  
  
He watched Malfoy walk away with the rest of the Slytherin team. He had played his cards well. By allowing the boy to think he was letting him do whatever he wished, Severus had managed to stay clear of Lucius' suspicions. Besides, there was no harm done in the process.  
  
"Except for inflating an already overlarge ego," decided Severus. He turned his attention to the Hufflepuff team and spotted Praecellus Livis who was polishing his broomstick. Only a selected few knew his parentage. For Severus, he thought it fortunate. There were too many bright minds corrupted by the seductive darkness that Voldemort had to offer.  
  
Where lay the point if not to prevent the Dark Lord?  
  
'Professor Snape sir!'  
  
Severus raised an eyebrow as he saw Hagrid run towards him. It was unlike Hagrid to run. The last time he did, one abnormally tiny first year bounced into the air literally.  
  
'Professor Snape, the Headmaster would like ter see ya' rightaway.' Hagrid told him urgently.  
  
Severus felt vaguely alarmed, 'Is it. . .'  
  
'No sir. Not like that.'  
  
Severus nodded his head. 'Tell the Slytherin team to return to their dormitories immediately after their practice. I don't want any unnecessary conflict between the other teams and them.'  
  
'Yes sir.'  
  
All sorts of speculations spanned around Severus' head as he walked quickly but steadily to the castle. What was so important that Albus had to call for him in the middle of the Quidditch activity? Hagrid had said it was nothing to do with Voldemort. It had been a while since his master had called for him, though he was not overly worried. They would know if another attack had occurred. Did something happen in the dungeons? Could it be that a student had broken into his storage-room containing the more dangerous substances? Perhaps Lupin had arrived unexpectedly to talk about the Wolfsbane potion. It would be disastrous for the Order if he informed them that he was developing a resistance towards the last supply sent a week ago.  
  
'Lemony Lollipop,' he barked and stepped onto the spiral stairway. Somehow the Headmaster's password always managed to sound menacing when uttered by him. When he entered Albus' office, he saw that Lupin was not in there.  
  
Albus looked up from a sheet of paper, 'Sit down Severus.'  
  
Severus observed Albus from his chair. There was a gravity about him that could not have anything to do with tricks students were involved in. Maybe Lupin had written in after all.  
  
Albus held out the paper, 'I received a letter "ah. . ." of a very delicate matter, concerning yourself "what?".' Albus continued gently, 'Although I myself find that the writer should have written directly to you, it seems eighteen years are insufficient to erase what contempt she has for you. I'm sorry Severus. I wish I could comfort you in some way. Only read this and you will understand.'  
  
Severus took the letter and saw a family crest printed on the top of it. For a while the familiarity of it did not register in his head as he stared dumbfounded at it. He read the letter slowly, very slowly as each word written by a hand he had not seen for the-gods-knew-how-long loomed in front of him. Could it be true?  
  
{The Hastings House  
  
Dear Headmaster,  
  
It has been a while since any of my family has corresponded with you. Pray forgive this negligence born not out of snobbishness but due to private grievances. You know that we only have the highest regard for you.  
  
What our personal matters are I will proceed to write to you, although it gives me great difficulty to do so. This is the only indication I shall write of, of the pain we feel acutely and deeply.  
  
Iunis Snape, the Head of Household and my grandfather, is already one hundred and sixty years old. His health has never been good, and has worsened over the past years, despite all our attempts to revive it.  
  
It is our belief, including his, that he is not long for this world. Therefore, he has instructed me to ask your permission to allow Professor Severus Snape to have a last audience with him.  
  
Yours sincerely,  
  
Adaman Snape}  
  
'Headmaster, I need to. . . Can I. . . I need to. . . If you may. . . I don't have cla. . . classes for the rest of the day. . .'  
  
'Do what you like. You need not come for the staff meeting tonight.  
  
'Thank you sir. I'm. . . Can I go?'  
  
'Of course.'  
  
Severus headed back to his rooms. The corridors were empty. Filch was not lurking in the corners to disturb him. The corridors were quiet. His mind was blank. Maybe he was dreaming. He was moving too slowly.  
  
He closed the door behind him mechanically. He stared at his chamber. Everything was too quiet. He looked down at the letter that he was still clutching. He smoothed it out. He read it again. He placed it on the mantle above the fireplace. There was no fire. Maybe he should light one up. Iunis Snape always insisted fireplaces should be kept lighted in whatever season. He said it made a person feel welcome. He could teach Severus how to keep a fire burning all the time. He had promised once.  
  
It was then that the impact of the letter hit Severus at last. His grandfather was dying.  
  
***  
  
Two weeks passed without incident. Severus went about his duties as though nothing significant had happened. He did not know what else to do.  
  
Until Albus came knocking on his door that evening for another of his chats.  
  
Albus tried to be patient. 'Severus you can't go on like this. Do you want to go back home?'  
  
Home? Was there actually a home for him, outside the borders of Hogwarts?  
  
'There are many things to be done Albus,' he said evasively.  
  
'They do not have to be done immediately.'  
  
'Albus. . . I can't do this. I. . . won't know what to do or say. I haven't seen them in what? Years on end.'  
  
'Do you want to see them?'  
  
'I don't know,' replied Severus. 'They haven't forgiven me yet.'  
  
Honest and brutal. It must have had hurt Severus to say it.  
  
'Haven't they asked for you?'  
  
'They wrote to you sir, not to me. Isn't it clear that that they believe I have no right to return? They are doing it at a dying man's request.' More harshness.  
  
'Isn't it important then to fulfil a dying man's wish to see his grandchild?'  
  
Albus was aware that Severus flinched as if he had slapped him. Retracing what he had said, he berated himself.  
  
'Mr. Snape has renounced his youngest grandson a long time ago, just as his family disowned one Severus Snape. What ties between the two had were removed and the former member of the family was quite unceremoniously chased out by the butler I can assure you of that.' No bitterness, only rejection.  
  
Albus should have had known that wounds did not heal easily. Sometimes they did not heal at all. When Severus had confessed to his family of his involvement with Voldemort and the Death-Eaters, all of them had taken it at face value and hurled him out of the house. Despite the esteem they had for Albus Dumbledore, they could not accept his explaination that Severus had indeed repented. . .  
  
. . .'Professor, don't help me.' Severus pleaded when he had gone back to Albus and informed him of his family's decision.  
  
'I am going to help you. Do you know why?'  
  
'Because you are Albus Dumbledore?' asked Severus listlessly.  
  
'Because your family should support you.'  
  
'Professor, don't. You know what the Snapes are like.'  
  
'As I remember, they are righteous, honest men and women, each highly regarded in the wizarding world.'  
  
'So true. They build roads and call for public safety. They build charity homes and read the Commandments of Merlin. They do not know what temptation is. Righteous, so righteous.'. . .  
  
In hindsight, Albus knew why Severus rebelled against his background. If he were born a Dumbledore he might have had been different. Dumbldores would understand Severus' formidable intelligence. The Snapes, whilst outstanding in character and even magical skills, were never outstanding in intellect. Severus was the precocious child, someone his family could not relate to. He was overly curious and innovative, imagining all forms of new techniques to contribute to any field in magic. Affectionate as they were to him, the Snape family was not the ideal home for Severus to be brought up in. They belonged to a bygone era of rigid rules and discipline, of strict upbringing and distant customs of addressing each other. Severus did not interact with friends his age and not having played in his life, knew not what exuberance and laughter were. The child grew old too fast. He would have had been separated form his peers in Hogwarts for his intelligence. His character added to them labelling him a sulky git. While all Snapes belonged to Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, Severus chose Slytherin. Albus wondered why his family had not seen it coming. As he recalled, Severus' father had immediately owled him, insisting on behalf of the whole family that a terrible mistake had been made, that the Sorting Hat had finally lost what mind the founders were said to bestow upon it.  
  
When Voldemort came, he came with everything Severus had imagined a leader should have: knowledge, cunning, confidence, resourcefulness and sheer brilliance. If Albus had known Voldemort had found ways to lure his students to him, he would have had prevented them.  
  
Such introspection was unhelpful for Severus and he brought an end to it.  
  
The only sign of life in Severus at the present was his index finger tapping nervously on the arm of his chair.  
  
'I rephrase my question then. Isn't it important to fulfil a dying man's wish to see you?'  
  
'When you put it that way, it makes a lot of sense,' said Severus flippantly. He sighed, 'I don't know Albus. What will happen?'  
  
'Are you afraid?'  
  
'Did you expect me to answer that?'  
  
'Then let me hypothesise. If you are afraid, I will remind you that in all these years you have not failed in courage to overcome any fear and challenge. Godric Gryffindor would be proud of you.'  
  
'That was a foolish thing to say. Spies are cowards. They hide their faces in the dark.'  
  
'Don't change the subject. Will you go back?'  
  
Severus said moodily, 'Yes but the lessons. . .'  
  
'I will take care of them. Take as long as it is necessary.'  
  
'I will be there as long as Mr. Snape deems fit.'  
  
'Excellent.' Albus beamed. 'Wasn't it easy to decide upon, once you set your mind to it? Tea would be lovely thank you.'  
  
Severus' head jerked a little before he remarked sardonically, 'Of course. I had not offerred. Once again my reputation as the hospitable host is confirmed.'  
  
Albus watched in comfort as Severus prepared the tea at ease. Soon the aroma waved tantalisingly into the air. Flicking his wand, Severus took the kettle in one hand and poured the steaming liquid into a delicate china cup.  
  
'Ah. . .' Albus said in satisfaction after drinking his first cup. 'It takes a Potions Master to really make a good cup of tea.'  
  
Severus smiled. 'It's why I fend off the House-Elves with all my shouting to do it myself.'  
  
'I'm glad your sense of humour has recovered. The staff meetings are so dull without your squabbles with Minerva.'  
  
'I do not squabble. Minerva does. She's an old witch.'  
  
'I shall relay to her your fine opinion of her.'  
  
'Do so, and tell her I prefer being transfigured to a toad over rodents.'  
  
Albus laughed, and engaged Severus in a chat which took up a good part of the night.  
  
***  
  
'Goodbye locker, goodbye classroom, goodbye lecture hall, goodbye tennis court, goodbye, canteen, goodbye tidbit machine, goodbye. . .' Lindsay paused. 'I'll think of something.'  
  
Adela grinned to herself. It was the last day in university for their class and the girls were packing up their belongings in the music room.  
  
'Oh beautiful flute,' Lindsay kissed it and placed it in her case, 'You have served me well.'  
  
'You are lucky. You can keep it at home. What about me? I can't bring back the piano.'  
  
'Woe be me!' cried out Lindsay. She smiled at Adela, 'Last night's performance was a blast, wasn't it? A great way to exit university.'  
  
'A better Nurse I have yet seen, it being the only Romeo and Juliet show I have ever watched.' Adela received a light slap on the back of her head. 'Ouch. I still want my head intact when I go home thank you very much.'  
  
'Ha ha. It will be prudent not to offend Your Highness then.'  
  
'You are a Nurse.'  
  
'Well now I am Queen Macbeth.'  
  
'She went mad.'  
  
'Alright, I'm the Queen in Alice in Wonderland. Off with her head!'  
  
'Mercy!' Adela dodged Lindsay's baton.  
  
'Off with your head!'  
  
'I surrender!'  
  
Lindsay slammed herself into Adela and both fell into a pile of empty boxes. She said happily, 'That will teach you.'  
  
Adela regained her balance and shook her head, 'We are like children.'  
  
Lindsay grinned, 'Joy and celebration. We have removed the shackles of adulthood.'  
  
'Hear hear.'  
  
Picking themselves up, Lindsay said, 'You told me you're taking the night ride home. I leave tomorrow. We'll be separated Adela, and we live so far. Won't you visit me at all?'  
  
'Merrily, but aren't you travelling to Canada with Henry?'  
  
'Right. Who knows when we will meet again? Who knows what will happen?'  
  
'Nothing remains but for the traces which leave our whispers in the sand. For us, memories. For the earth, the tides come and go. The waves clash on the rocks. The birds ride the wind. The mountains hide their song and forests their secrets. They wait for us to explore. Then maybe we'll get lost. Maybe someone will mock and terrify. But it is a distant voice. There is no fear. We are watched by all around us. The Autumn Willow knows what the Storm does not, that the power to endure harm outlives the power to inflict it. . .'  
  
Adela was off again, in her dream world. Sometimes Lindsay tried to imagine what she saw. They must be beautiful dreams. Her eyes glowed so.  
  
'Nothing remains,' she said when Adela came out of her reverie.  
  
'How grave you say it. There is always hope the past is not forgotten.' Sometimes it seemed that Adela was not aware of her subconscious state of mind.  
  
Looking at her, Lindsay felt a pang. 'We may not meet for a long time. Will you play me a song?'  
  
'You are very grave Lindsay. Parting is such sweet sorrow, no? Come,' Adela sat at the piano, 'Sit by me.'  
  
When the two settled down, Adela tinkled with piano. She played the opening bars of an unknown song, and Lindsay nearly gaped at her when she sang. She had never heard her sing before.  
  
'White in the moon the long road lies,  
  
The moon stands blank above;  
  
White in the moon the long road lies  
  
Beckons me on to move.  
  
Still hangs the edge without a gust,  
  
Still, still the shadows stay:  
  
My feet upon the moonlit dust  
  
Pursue the ceaseless way.  
  
The world is round, so travellers tell,  
  
And straight though reach the track,  
  
Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well,  
  
The way will guide one back.  
  
But ere the circle homeward hies  
  
Far, far must it remove;  
  
White in the moon the long road lies  
  
Beckons me on to move.'  
  
Adela continued playing and singing various songs, as the skies outside began to grow deep orange and burst forth with effort the last rays of the day, streaming into the room through the clear windows. She ostensibly made up the pieces as she went, all frenzy and inspiration. Her voice was like her, strange and light, winged as it were. She disturbed her listener with unexpected thrills, but she also brought forth serenity. Finally, she stopped. Her fingers rested on the keys.  
  
'It is late,' Lindsay said softly.  
  
Adela stirred herself. 'Yes,' she whispered. Bringing the cover over the keyboard and locking it in place, she stayed still for a moment.  
  
'How swift the passing.'  
  
'Do you need my help in packing?'  
  
'No. I have already sent my luggage off yesterday.'  
  
Adela lapsed into meditation again.  
  
'You will miss your train.'  
  
'So I shall, if I remain.' She stood up.  
  
'Come then. You can see me off if you like.'  
  
Lindsay took Adela's outstretched hand. 'Are you alright Adela?'  
  
'I am.'  
  
'Now it's you who are grave.'  
  
'This evening seems to make me so.'  
  
They walked out hand in hand. Adela smiled at Lindsay gently, 'You are a good friend Lindsay. I will miss you.'  
  
'You will remember to keep in touch with me then?'  
  
'I will. I want to attend your wedding, you know.'  
  
'Really!'  
  
They both laughed. Lindsay was comforted it could end this way.  
  
***  
  
Severus felt like a child all over again. He was small, inconspicuous, insignificant in the heart of his forefathers' grounds.  
  
There was no turning back. He needed to get this done. He had to carry out his last duty and service to Iunis Snape. He looked around the lush gardens surrounding the home itself. Nothing had changed.  
  
'Professor,' a woman a few years older than he glided down the stairs.  
  
'Madam,' Severus bowed.  
  
They studied each other cautiously. In Severus' eyes, his sister did not change much. The steely grey eyes which hid the charity she was renowned for. Her hair only had a tinge of silver at the fringe. Her countenance remained noble and elegant.  
  
'I trust the House-Elves have shown you your rooms.'  
  
'Yes, I am very satisfied with them.'  
  
'They will be quite adequate during your stay.'  
  
'The Snape family is always reputed for its hospitality,' Severus tried too hard to be polite. He must not show the hurt he felt when the House-Elves led him to the guest quarters instead of the rooms he occupied as a child.  
  
Adaman nodded her head in acknowledgement. 'If you are ready I shall bring you to the Master's chambers.'  
  
'Thank you, but I remember where. . . that is, of course. Thank you.'  
  
Walking down the corridors and through various rooms, memories suppressed surfaced as he saw one familiar scene after another.  
  
'You've redecorated the play-room,' Severus could not help saying.  
  
'It's now used Mr. and Mrs. Tsenoh Snape's son.' Her voice was tight.  
  
Severus swiftly distanced himself. 'Oh, I read the papers. Your nephew must be three by now.'  
  
'Quite right. He's showing signs of his magical powers.'  
  
'That is fast.'  
  
'It is not when one compares to you. You were only. . . We have made changes to the training rooms we are about to pass. As you can see, Professor, further protections have been done to the walls.'  
  
Some minutes passed as they walked, with Adaman proceeding to describe the house. Severus unashamedly took refuge in it. When they arrived at the door, a plain cloth was seen to drape over it. Adaman waved her right hand and whispered, 'We ask entrance.'  
  
The drapery shimmered and a single light shone through.  
  
'Cool breeze from the mountain,  
  
Carries my old voice;  
  
Water from the fountain,  
  
Aids life and rejoice."  
  
As she said each line, a gold light flashes to reveal part of the verse on the tapestry. Then, the cloth was lifted and the door opened.  
  
'You may go in.'  
  
The door closed behind him.  
  
'Well, well, if it isn't the snarky, slimy, Severus Snape.'  
  
For a surreal moment, Severus wondered where the voice came from. It seemed to fill the room.  
  
'What? No retorts? No, fifty points from Gryffindor? Come to the side of my bed so that I may see whether the actual professor is here,' the strong voice barked again. It was impossible to believe that it belonged to a weak aged man.  
  
Severus stepped forward. He composed himself before looking down to see the man he once called Grandpa.  
  
Iunis Snape was almost a tragic shadow of himself. Whilst his voice had the quality of strength and will, his countenance betrayed a frailty more delicate than that of a newborn child. He was thin, painfully so. His cheeks had sunken to reveal the sharp cheekbones and he kept coughing sporadically. His hair, swept back from his face and forehead, had lost all colour. It was not even white. Severus felt his throat constrict.  
  
'Mr. Snape.'  
  
Iunis opened his eyes and gazed at him solemnly. They still retained the bright spark Severus remembered. Did he imagine it, or did a spasm cross Iunis' jaw and something akin to pain flash in his eyes?  
  
'Professor.'  
  
Severus sat on the oak chair place beside the head of the bed.  
  
'Thank you for coming, although I must protest at the amount of time it took for you. I wondered if I could hold out. If I could manage, I would have Apparated to Hogwarts' and spanked you.'  
  
Tears threatened to fall from Severus' eyes.  
  
'I see the years have not been exceptionally kind to you as well. You look haggard, terrible if I may add. Isn't Hogwarts famous for the food the House-Elves provide? Or do you lock yourself up in those dungeons of yours? Professor Dumbledore says you keep insisting that they be cold and wet. You'll suffer rheumatism when you get old. And you'll have yourself solely to blame.'  
  
Severus' voice failed him.  
  
'Is this man speechless? Silenced? Come, I did not ask you to come stare at me like a drowning sod. Talk.'  
  
Severus struggled to obey, 'Mr. Snape. I'm honoured to be in your presence.'  
  
'That is appropriate. . . if you are talking to an acquaintance. What do you have to say to your old grandpa?'  
  
'I. . . I regret to say that I have no kin in this world.'  
  
'Why? Is it because everyone is dead or because you have renounced them?'  
  
'I believe it's the other way round sir. I was the one abandoned.'  
  
Iunis stared at him. His lips moved.  
  
'Did you feel abandoned when we renounced you?'  
  
Severus realised his mistake. 'No sir. I was renounced because I deserved it.'  
  
Iunis said irritably, 'You have not answered my question.'  
  
'What question is that sir?'  
  
'Don't play the fool. Did you think yourself abandoned?'  
  
'Mr. Snape. . .'  
  
'Call me Grandpa!'  
  
Severus caught himself gasping. 'What?'  
  
Iunis was gasping after exerting himself. Severus asked urgently, 'Sir? Is there anything I. . .'  
  
'Get me. . . water.'  
  
Severus summoned a glass of water and proceeded to scoop Iunis up and lean him against the head of the bed. He held the glass while Iunis drank several mouthfuls.  
  
'Thank you.' Iunis whispered. He looked at Severus. Slowly, one bony hand came up to touch Severus' cheek. A tear flowed down his own.  
  
Severus was overwhelmed, 'Sir.'  
  
'The years have been hard on you Severus.' Iunis said sadly. 'I'm sorry.'  
  
'Have you. . .' Severus dared not ask it out loud. 'Have you. . .'  
  
'Have I released you from your punishment? Yes, I think so,' Iunis cradled Severus' head. 'I am the master of this house, this name. It is my duty to look after everyone in the family. But you, my child, you I cast away. Forgive me.'  
  
'Sir. . .'  
  
'Hear me. I was angry Severus. I was shamed by my dearest grandson. I did not understand, could not understand what could possibly have turned him away from us. You must know I cannot imagine a Death-Eater to have a conscience, let alone a soul. You were to me, the embodiment of evil.'  
  
'I was blinded once.'  
  
'Yes. I wondered why you chose such a horrible end. It plagued me to reflect that I might have been responsible.'  
  
'No, a person alone is responsible for the choices he makes.'  
  
'But a family may guide him to another path. We were blind to your actions, your follies. But you chose to end that miserable way. You alone fought to return to the light. You asked our pardon. And we, we who did not help you at all, abandoned you.'  
  
Severus gripped Iunis' hand, 'Don't reproach yourself. I told you I deserved every punishment that was directed at myself.'  
  
'Enough. . .' Iunis sighed, 'You have suffered enough. Dumbledore has kept us up to date with your life. Don't be surprised, or resentful. We asked him to. And we learnt you have done more than we suspected to redeem yourself. We are proud of you. It will be an honour if you agree to return to us.'  
  
Severus had not expected this. His mind reeled.  
  
'Am I forgiven?'  
  
'Forgiveness. . . It is a lesson we Snapes have not grasped properly. Dumbledore's right. We're a rigid bunch. Severus, I'm an old, tired man. I just want you to come home.'  
  
Relief washed over Severus. It felt as though a burden he had been crushed under was removed. He found himself pulled gently to the old wizard into a hug. It was awkward. He had not been in such close contact with anyone for such a long time. Yet, this was his grandfather, with whom he had not communicated with for over twenty years.  
  
'Severus, my boy.'  
  
'Yes sir.'  
  
'Call me Grandpa.'  
  
'I. . . it sounds childish'  
  
'Childish?' Iunis laughed bitterly, 'I don't know if you ever knew childhood.'  
  
Severus smiled in spite of himself. Sitting up, he looked at Iunis and said, 'I'm glad Grandpa.'  
  
Iunis returned his smile. 'The whole family will be glad.'  
  
'Adaman does not seem to approve of me.'  
  
'Don't you know your sister? Her countenance means nothing. She has not reconciled her principles with her feelings and hopes yet. Give the others time to accept that they want you back.'  
  
'As you wish.'  
  
'Of course as I wish. Now, there are several things I need to settle with you. For one, who do you think you are to handle Gryffindors so ruthlessly? Why, you did not think of respecting your grandpa. It's horrifying that you are the Head of Slytherin. We're practically enemies.'  
  
Severus snorted. 'Trust you to defend Gryffindor.'  
  
They talked for the better part of the day, until more and more of their family came to join them. Seeing each familiar face, Severus was vaguely apprehensive. However, they were all civil, and with Iunis' help, became the family they once were to him. Severus was at ease.  
  
***  
  
'Uncle Sam! Aunt!' Adela was welcomed with a bear hug by her uncle at the gate of the train station.  
  
The merry man with a wrinkled brown face and twinkling blackcurrant eyes laughed heartily. He wore a corduroy jacket and a sugar-loaf hat that was set awry on his head. Beside him stood a beaming woman, who contrasted sharply in size with her husband, who was large and round. Like him, however, she had ginger hair.  
  
'Oof! You've grown.' Uncle Samuel exclaimed.  
  
'I have not!'  
  
'It's what elders say to their children who've gone away for some period. Tradition, my little one.'  
  
'Ah, I hope I have not changed.'  
  
'Not a bit,' Aunt Martha gave her a milder hug. 'It is good to see you return. Come along, the horse-cart is waiting for us.'  
  
'Is it Laurie?'  
  
'Yes, Laurie and Maud. It'll need two to bring three and the luggage to the village.'  
  
'It is a lot of luggage Adela,' Uncle Samuel remarked as he carted them to the cart. A man who was hurrying towards his car bumped into him. 'These urban people are cursed with impatience. They can never appreciate nature. Anyway, what do you have inside?'  
  
'What I packed four years ago before leaving for university.'  
  
'Hhmp. Seems to have grown like you.'  
  
'Dear uncle, I'm so pleased to see you.'  
  
The two-hours ride in the horse-cart was spent telling her guardians about life in university and assuring them that she had taken care of her health well.  
  
'Still, I wager you miss your Aunt Martha's cooking. There'll be dinner right as you step into the house.'  
  
'Marvellous. Will there be hot steaming corn soup, baked bread, potatoes topped with butter, chicken pies and custard puddings?'  
  
'And all the other things you like.'  
  
'You spoil me Auntie.'  
  
'Aye, but you've never been spoilt. Your parents will be proud to see the fine girl you've become.'  
  
'And you, uncle, aunt? Are you proud of me?'  
  
'Bless you, sweet, you're a treasure. I'm so proud of you I go to the inn everyday telling them folks I've got a girl in university working her way best she can. Where's your certificate? I want to show it to them bores.'  
  
'In my luggage uncle.'  
  
'I tell you we should frame it and hang it in the living room where everyone can see.'  
  
Adela laughed. It did not matter where her certificate was situated. She was delirious with delight. They were in the outskirts of the town by then. She saw the cornfields among which pimpernels and gillyflowers grew. She inhaled the scent of pine trees. The cart turned off the road from a steep hill and she smiled to see the approaching hills. Somewhere beyond them was a place she was born in.  
  
At length, they reached the cliff road that wound and twisted up and down the hills. There was no sign, no indication before the horses slowed their pace into trot. The tiny village, neither changed by time nor modernisation, met them in full quaintness and coziness.  
  
'Welcome home Adela.'  
  
Author's Note:  
  
'Adaman' is from the Latin word adamans: steeled, unyielding, adamant, stubborn, intransigent  
  
'Iunis' is from 'iuris': justice, law  
  
'The Autumn Willow knows what the Storm does not, that the power to endure harm outlives the power to inflict it' was a sentence found on a webpage contributed by someone who calls himself/herself Fallen Bird.  
  
The song is taken from another fantastic series called The Dark is Rising. The last line of the first and fourth verses have been changed though. Go read the book!  
  
'Tsenoh' is just the mirror image of honest. Stupid me. 


	6. Chapter 5

We are all caught up in an inescapable web of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever effects one directly effects all indirectly. ~ Martin Luther King  
  
Chapter Five  
  
The birds were quiet today. There was no chirping, no singing, no glimpse at all of them. Was it time for them to migrate to the South? Adela mused idly.  
  
It was not four days that she had reached home. Already, she could feel the winds of change in the seasons more acutely here than in the city. There was not a stir in the trees. Still and silent, she did not feel oppressed or intimidated. She knew the hills too well. She had not seen them for years. Nevertheless, she felt no uneasiness adjusting back to life in the village.  
  
Uncle Samuel and Aunt Martha persuaded her to rest for at least a week before she started work in the school comprising of only fifty or so students. There were at present two school attendants and a teacher, with indication that Mrs. Fallow was retiring. Uncle Samuel had spoken to the village counsel and they had agreed to let Adela try the soon-to-be vacant position. Things were passing smoothly.  
  
Sitting on a patch of grass, she took out Lindsay's email she had printed out. Her friend would be one of the few links left to the outside world.  
  
{Hilton Hotel, Toronto, Canada  
  
Unit 10-08  
  
Dear Adela,  
  
Hello there! I've just arrived in Canada. It's a lovely place.  
  
Forgive me if this email/letter is incoherent, as I'm certain it will be. It's been eons since I have typed a letter. It is terrible to think that in this day and age, there's a little village my friend lives in where there is no electricity except in the Common House, or whatever you folks name it. None! I won't be able to survive a week in your condition.  
  
Canada's lovely, beautiful. Henry keeps taking pictures. We're having heaps of fun exploring this place. We've been to Chinatown, to the border and sin of sins, the shopping centres, malls they call them. Anyhow, it's a whirl getting around. A real lark. I'm writing this to you in the middle of the night. Aren't you touched?  
  
We're hoping to go Quebec, the French-speaking areas. I'm going to put my French to exhaustive practice. Henry says my accent is atrocious. Don't worry. I've taught him his lesson.  
  
So dearie, we're looking after ourselves very well. That is to say, we've not gotten lost, nor have we managed to starve ourselves. The prices here are reasonable. The present exchange rate is used to maximal advantage.  
  
So take care. I'm assuming you'll get this letter before we leave Canada. I expect you to write back.  
  
Hugs, Lindsay.  
  
P.S. Henry sends his happy regards.  
  
P.P.S. Henry says he'll keep his eyes open for nice lads, and beautiful girls for himself at the same time.  
  
P.P.P.S. I have whacked Henry.}  
  
There was a huge grin on Adela's face by the end of the letter. Dear old Lindsay. She had the rare gift of openness and frankness. She decided to write back that evening.  
  
The winds tugged at her hair playfully as she sank blissfully into the scenery, a fragment of the picture, a drop in the ocean. There was a serenity in her home, untouched by any hideous mark. She wished the world could be more at peace with itself like the people in the village. However, she understood that all colours coexisted here. Whether, bad or good, they contributed to life.  
  
'That's what makes life miraculous,' she said out loud. Lingering about for a while, she headed back to help her aunt tidy the house.  
  
***  
  
Iunis Snape passed away two days after Severus arrived home. The funeral was a short one. Subdued even. The Snape family did not invite anyone save Iunis' relations. Hence, the gathering was small and united in its grief.  
  
The funeral was carried out in the late afternoon. As the golden sun shone on, each member, dressed in sombre black paid his last respects. Severus wished he could have had worn a set of clothes that showed his lament. After all, black was his standard colour. When it was his turn to look at his grandfather, he saw calmness mark his face. He had died without regrets. He recalled laughing with his grandfather, talking with him and embracing him.  
  
He bade farewell.  
  
Severus stayed on for another two days to assist in the aftermath of the proceedings. The day following the funeral, he sat with his siblings in the library sorting out letters of condolences.  
  
'The Ministry's the worst,' Tsenoh groaned. He tossed letter after letter into a velvet sack. 'All empty sincerity and hollow comfort.'  
  
'I blame Fudge. He chooses the shallowest men to become the head of each department. At least, Weaseley's one is decent.' Adaman replied. She deliberately tossed some letters into the fire. At Tsenoh's arched eyebrow, she shrugged. 'McNairs.'  
  
'Indeed. Malfoys.' Tsenoh toasted them with his wand.  
  
'Weaseley's one of the few sane voices left in the Ministry.' Severus agreed. He put Dumbledore's message in a box. 'One of the few fighting Voldemort.'  
  
The family had reached a consensus that they should accept Severus' past and move on. Severus could not describe his gratefulness. It was not solely that they did it due to Iunis' urging. He could discern that in their hearts, he held his place in the family once more.  
  
His brother and sister contemplated his last observation.  
  
'Yes,' Adaman said. 'We need more wizards like him more than ever.'  
  
The next day, Severus decided to return to Hogwarts. After thanking each family member, and making it a priority to see his nephew, he walked out into the grounds with Adaman.  
  
Severus chuckled.  
  
'What is it?'  
  
'It's ironic. I came here expecting another round of expulsion.'  
  
Adaman said gravely, 'That is nothing to laugh about.'  
  
'You know what I mean.'  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'I thought you were going to continue that chilling attitude towards me. I thought everyone, including Grandpa, would.'  
  
'You should have known better after we've asked for you.'  
  
'Perhaps. But it was rather harsh to send it through Professor Dumbledore.'  
  
Adaman hesitated. She admitted, 'We didn't know how you would handle it. We failed you in many ways.'  
  
'You've raised me with the best of intentions. I did not appreciate them.'  
  
'We were not there for you when you needed help most. I know Grandfather has always been secretly thankful the Headmaster had you under his wing.'  
  
'It is over sister. Let it go.'  
  
'Do you forgive us?'  
  
'There is nothing to forgive.'  
  
'Severus, don't.'  
  
'Forgiveness does not change the past, but it does enlarge the future.'  
  
Adaman was slightly disorientated for a while. She frowned at the familiar sentence before comprehension dawned. 'Paul Boese.'  
  
'Only the brave know how to forgive; it is the most refined and generous pitch of virtue human nature can arrive at.'  
  
'Laurence Stern.'  
  
'You see?' Severus smiled. 'We're learning.'  
  
Adaman nodded. 'For a Slytherin, you know amazingly plenty about Muggle life.' Embracing him, she said, 'Know that you always have a home here.'  
  
'Thank you.'  
  
'You look tired. You've been busy in Hogwarts. I thought teaching should be easy.'  
  
'Not when each student is a tyrant.'  
  
'What, against out Potions Master? I know, you've been doing things in secrecy. Dark things.'  
  
Severus wondered how to answer his sister. He did not like to lie to her. He must have contemplated over it too long, for Adaman said quietly, 'I've hit it, then.'  
  
'Adaman, there are things. . .'  
  
'I know.' Adaman's hand rested on his arm, 'There are things you cannot mention. About what you do. I have an inkling. Only take care. Go now brother. You are in the light now, stay there.'  
  
Severus bowed to her, 'Goodbye. Till we meet again.'  
  
He Disapparated.  
  
***  
  
'Oh, thank you Uncle!' Adela clapped her hands, 'It's wonderful.'  
  
'I'm glad you like it.'  
  
Adela opened the cover of the old-fashioned styled pianoforte. Set in a rectangular box, it fitted into the corner of the house neatly. Lifting the cover, she tinkled with the keys. They sounded clear and sonorous.  
  
'Did it cost much?'  
  
'Not a farthing. I picked it at the flea market. Was in bad shape then. Took it to old Ben to fix it for me, strings, keys and all.'  
  
Aunt Martha was setting the table. She lit the candlesticks. 'Play it for us after supper.'  
  
So Adela did. It was a rare sight in view in a little cottage in a small village of harmony and quiet contentment. Life was always simpler in the rural parts. As she played, Uncle smoked his pipe and pored over the week's papers while Aunt Martha pounded on wheat dough in advance for breakfast the next day. Dandelions Adela picked from the woods were blooming in a pretty clay vase on the table.  
  
The peace was rudely shatterred by an insistent pounding on the front door.  
  
'Sam! For God's sake, open the door,' a ragged voice roared. More indistinct voices were heard outside.  
  
Nighttime in the village was a private affair. To disturb one's neighbours meant something ominous had happened among them. Uncle Samuel got off his seat and unlocked the door hurriedly.  
  
Several men stood outside. Some had strained expressions. Others showed anxiety. Not all were wearing hats, a greater indication of the severity of the agitation that had taken place.  
  
'What in the Queen's name. . .?'  
  
'Sam, come outside and we'll talk.' Joshua, the man who had first called for Uncle Samuel, whispered urgently. 'How about you coming inside to talk?'  
  
'Bain't for them ladies to hear.' Old carpenter Ben, sixty but still strong as an ox, was visibly shaken.  
  
'Well. . .' Uncle Samuel threw a stealthy glance at Aunt Martha and Adela. 'They'll hear it if they want.'  
  
'Of course,' said Aunt Martha irritably, 'I'm not faint of heart, and Adela's lived in the city. What is it?'  
  
The men exchanged furtive looks. Then, one of them cleared his throat loudly, 'It's that man, Mr. Bidmarck.'  
  
'Well?'  
  
'He's dead.'  
  
'Well?'  
  
As though something had been unleashed, they started talking simultaneously.  
  
'Bain't natural Samuel. . .'  
  
'An ill wind's a blowing. Don't like what we saw. . .'  
  
'Lying on the floor he was. . . all rigid as a stone. . .'  
  
'And them eyes. . . I'll have them nightmares now. . . not a heart attack I reckon. . . something worse. . .'  
  
'. . .something evil I say. . .'  
  
'A bad moon a rising. . .'  
  
Mystery surrounded Mr. Mark Bidmarck. Unlike the long-settled families living in the village, he was a stranger who came to live with them some fifteen years ago. He was a grim-faced person, tall and ashen, with eyebrows always a perpetual frown and thin lips pressed together. Like a crow shoving its way among the doves, he bought a house occupied by a caretaker after the death of an old inhabitant who had no kin. It was bad enough that he was an outsider. That alone would have gained the mistrust of the close-knit community. In addition, he was a recluse, shutting himself all day. He did not interact with anyone, except the old servant Clara Polgrey who was hired to buy his groceries, nor did he welcome visitors. To top it off, he committed the crime of closing his windows.  
  
From the disoriented accounts given by the men, Adela's family gathered that there was something odious about Bidmarck's death. Coupled to the fact that Halloween was approaching, the villagers were even more nervous.  
  
'Where is he then?' Uncle Samuel asked.  
  
'Still lying there. None of us dare touch him.'  
  
'Alright, one of you go to the Common Court to telephone for an ambulance from town. I'll go see Mr. Bidmarck.'  
  
'Shall I accompany you uncle?' Adela asked.  
  
'No, Adela, you stay with your aunt. I'll be back soon.'  
  
'No, we'll go along.' Aunt Martha took out her shawl. 'There's still Clara. It's better for a woman to be there. Take your shawl Adela.'  
  
'Oh.' Joshua fumbled, 'Yes, it's good of you to come. Clara's all affright. She's cowering in a corner of the house.'  
  
When they arrived at Mr. Bidmarck's place, the houses around had been stirred out of their slumber. Adela saw that none had gone inside the house due to Joshua having blocked the entrance. Their leader of sorts, a kindly farmer Tapperty, was waiting for them.  
  
'Who found him?' he asked as they walked inside.  
  
'I did,' Marcus Finch, one of the farm hands replied. I was crossing his house when I saw a green light flash in his room, the bedroom. I tried to check, but I couldn't get near the house. It's strange, but I tried and tried. It were like an invisible wall blocking me. Then, I found meself flung forward. Just like that. Then I rushed into the house and room and what do you know, he was lying right there, with old Clara wailing loud.'  
  
'Clara was crying? Loud?' Tapperty said incredulously. It was common knowledge that she was mute. It was not easy communicating with her, for she did not know the universal sign language as well.  
  
'Yes sir, I said it ain't natural.'  
  
Tapperty and Uncle Samuel, together with four men and the two females, entered the room.  
  
Old Ben was right. It was not natural. They did not see and felt the intangible eerie atmosphere about it. Aunt Martha turned sharply toward Clara before she could see Bidmarck in full. Adela stood at the doorway while the men crowded around the body and started a whole round of steady murmurs. Her view was blocked. She could only see his arm and fist, clenched into a tight ball. She may not have known Mr. Bidmarck, but she was affected all the same. She had never witnessed a death before.  
  
Aunt Martha was trying her best the aged woman. Having not known speech, the words pouring out of Clara were child-like and heart wrenching.  
  
'The medics will come move the body,' Uncle Samuel said, 'if no one wants to.'  
  
'Maybe it's the plague.'  
  
'Don't be foolish Marcus. Was everything the same as when you first found the body?'  
  
Marcus looked around, 'Looks the same to me.'  
  
'Let's look around,' said Joshua, inspired. 'Maybe we can find clues.'  
  
'That's for the police to check Joshua lad.'  
  
'It's alright Mr. Tapperty. We won't remove anything. There bain't no fingerprints I reckon. Them clever to wear gloves.'  
  
Adela helped in the, as Lindsay would call it, snooping around. There was nothing extraordinary. His furnishings were plain and not a costly article was found in the house.  
  
'Theft. Robbers maybe.' Ben concluded.  
  
'Those thieves sure clean this place up real neat eh? Everything's all a tidy and placed aright. N'or, it bain't no robbery.'  
  
Adela knelt down beside Mr. Bidmarck as the men launched into fierce speculation. She thought she should attend to him, even though he was not there. Not really.  
  
His eyes were wide open. Adela knew he must have had screamed when he died. Why did no one hear him? So many questions. She closed his eyes. Let him leave in peace.  
  
A chill spread across her palm. He was ice-cold. She shivered. She was about to get up when she saw a corner a brown. something peeking out from under his back. She tried to pull it out.  
  
'What are you doing?' Uncle Samuel knelt beside them.  
  
'Help me roll him over uncle. There's something. . .'  
  
Reluctant as he was, her uncle obliged. What was revealed was a square (twelve inch by twelve inch) piece of cloth with no marking on it. Adela picked it up. Uncle Samuel touched it and said, 'Cowhide. It's nothing special. Perhaps a material he's using for his outfit.'  
  
'Perhaps,' but Adela wondered at it.  
  
***  
  
'Severus! Just in time to help us prepare the Halloween Feast,' Albus waved at him from the other end of the Hall. 'True, if you want him to poison the treats and burn the pumpkins,' Flitwick chuckled. 'Come Severus. Levitate me up the ceiling for me to decorate the buttresses.'  
  
'A cue to flee if ever I heard one,' Severus said mildly, 'The afternoon can be better used to follow up on the vast amount of work I've missed.'  
  
'Don't be such a spoilsport,' Albus said. 'You should have stayed home longer.'  
  
Severus lifted Flitwick to the nearest corner. 'I needed to see how you've handled my classes. To see how you've ruined them.'  
  
'I handled them quite well thank you. I did it without you. It seems I've become a more effective and may I say, popular professor than yourself. I should fire you and take on your position. I've forgotten how rewarding teaching was.'  
  
'Yes, you teach. I head the school. We shall verily learn from each other.'  
  
'At least you won't be terrorising students.'  
  
'I shall be prohibiting students from enrolling unless they come muted.'  
  
Albus coughed in non-commitment.  
  
'Severus!' Flitwick squealed. Severus had eased his control of his wand and Flitwick was flying across the Hall erratically. Fortunately, he had crashed into anything.  
  
'My apologies, Professor,' Severus brought Flitwick to another part of the ceiling.  
  
'Miss Adaman Snape wrote to me. You are quite alright then.'  
  
'Yes Albus. Thank you.'  
  
'I'm glad.'  
  
'Do you know Albus,' Severus said in a fit of dark humour, 'With so much gladness surrounding a death, Grandpa must have parted in happiness himself.'  
  
'In not so many words as to say you've received everyone's blessings.'  
  
It was Severus' turn to cough lightly, 'More so in a week than in a lifetime. I miss him Albus.' It was the closest Severus would ever get to admit the acute loss he felt.  
  
'He knows.'  
  
Severus nodded, 'Adaman suspects me.'  
  
'You did not tell her.'  
  
'It's better not to.'  
  
'You are right, not until this is over. Sirius was here while you were gone.'  
  
'It was unnecessary to tell me. I could smell his reek in your office.'  
  
'Arthur hears that more Dementors have deserted. Arabella tells of animals leaving the Dark Woods in Russia. Voldemort may have moved there. And Sybil came to me.'  
  
Severus frowned. Sybil Trelawney may be a fraud in most of the students' eyes, but in truth, she did possess the Sight, as Potter had witnessed himself. Acting to the crowd, Trelawney, in fact, knew what she was doing. She was aware of herself during sudden assaults of the vision.  
  
'She said Voldemort's preparing for a more serious attack than we ever imagined.'  
  
'Ah,' said Severus wearily, 'Can she not be more helpful and tell us where and when he's striking?'  
  
'You know how the powers are. There's something else. She saw a white butterfly entering our world.'  
  
'Is it significant?'  
  
'It's a myth. It can be purity or death. It can be an asset or a warning. This is the end, Severus.'  
  
'And look how well prepared we are. He hasn't called me for some time. I don't know. . .'  
  
'What of Malfoy?'  
  
'He said he was instructed to gather two hundred followers. Goyle's taking a hundred. They were not informed of where they were to lead them.'  
  
'Yes, something's brewing.'  
  
'I think he's getting desperate. The corpses maintain his strength but do not enhance it. He wants all-encompassing power. The only way to extend his resources and succeed in achieving immortality is to have the whole wizarding community in his command.'  
  
'And until then. . .'  
  
'We wait,' Severus finished.  
  
Albus pinched the bridge of his nose hard.  
  
***  
  
{Dear Lindsay,  
  
Thank you for writing.  
  
I wish I could have a video of your adventures. Be sure to buy me a souvenir too. A little trinket is sufficient.  
  
As for myself, joy fills me to be back home. I can write on and on about the wilderness and beauty, but you have to be here to know what I mean. This is a huge hint asking you to visit me. However, the happy state has been marred lately by a death in the village. I shall not write in detail what happened. Suffice to say it startled the whole village. Many are preparing Halloween in greater earnest. Ghosts and all the beliefs.  
  
How are you two spending Halloween? Will you dress as a vampire again? Do not drink too much tomato juice. Tell Mickey Mouse, or Henry, to watch over you lest you have a stomachache. Will you attend a masquerade? There are several to be held in Toronto. I still watch the news on television in the Common Court.  
  
I'm going to the CC this weekend. I should be able to call you. Tell me where you will be then.  
  
Regards, Adela.}  
  
Adela hit the 'Send' button. She hoped Lindsay would not spot that she was hiding something.  
  
"Dark clouds o'er thy head. . ." Adela thought idly as she walked out.  
  
It was frustrating. The villagers knew that Mr. Bidmarck had to be murdered.  
  
"And yet, and yet!" Adela skipped over a mud puddle instinctively whilst in deep meditation. The doctors doing the autopsy in town were swift. The report revealed nothing amiss. There were no wounds, not even the slightest indication of a heart attack. In not so many words, the police drew on the conclusion that it was a natural death. They dismissed the accounts of the villagers as wild speculation.  
  
However, it wasn't. The villagers were not an imaginative bunch. Besides, what accounts there were matched each other. All was quiet. Then five saw a green light flare from the same room at the same time. Then, Joshua rushed in to find Mr. Bidmarck dead.  
  
As for Clara, she was so traumatised the police and doctors felt it best to send her to a hospital, despite Mr. Tapperty's protest. No, the police had said, she was a danger to everyone. Aunt Martha had left to accompany her. Adela thought she had never seen Clara more lucid than that morning when she started sprouting words in fear. 'Men. . . men in long, long black. . . masks. . . terrible terrible. . . the devils' a coming!' she whimpered, 'Pain. . . so much pain and they do nothing. Arms pointing. . . pointy sticks. . . straight. . . Eyes. . . horrible horrible. . . Oh, they make me scream. . . no one comes? Sharp sticks. . . Mr. Bidmarck. . . he a strange man, but quiet and fair to Clara. . . Cured Clara's voice, but she tells no one. . . No one comes. . . Mr. Bidmarck go goes. . . he a refuse. . . he a brave man. . . then they. . . kill him.'  
  
'But how Clara?' Uncle Samuel had persisted in asking. It was something they had spent the night trying to extract it from the poor woman.  
  
'They kill him!' she had cried. 'They kill more! Hogsmeade. . . Hogwarts! He says they go there to kill.'  
  
Adela's footsteps had taken her unconsciously to the hills. Resigned, she sat down and took out the piece of brown cloth. She had kept it on a whim. No one minded anyway. It would appear Mr. Bidmarck had no family in this world as well. His things would be left untouched until Halloween was over.  
  
The cloth was not unique, yet she would not accept that an innocent thing such as that would be lying around the floor when everything in the house was kept neatly in place. It may even belonged to the intruders.  
  
Clara's voice rang out, 'Hogwarts!' She had only heard this name mentioned once.  
  
'Magic,' she whispered, and gasped when a light flared from the cloth, stinging her eyes momentarily. Regaining her sight, she looked down to see a map appear on the cloth. Yet what a map it was. Finely detailed, she saw the town, the village, the hills and woods. Far away were other villages. Close to one she knew, was a place called Hogsmeade station and Hogsmeade village. And even closer to it was a dot labelled Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And in the hills, she saw a smaller dot with her name as its label.  
  
Grasping the map tightly, she ran down to find her uncle.  
  
***  
  
'Can't you see it?' Adela asked in anxiety.  
  
'I see nothing.' Uncle Samuel said.  
  
'Say magic.'  
  
He stared at her. Then, clearing his throat, he said it. Looking at the map, he turned back to her in bewilderment, 'Well?'  
  
'Well, do you see anything now?'  
  
'No, what am I supposed to see?'  
  
'A map.' She pointed to the various villages and read out their names.  
  
Uncle Samuel stared at her unnerved, 'I see nothing Adela.'  
  
Adela gazed at him. She said slowly, 'Maybe it requires someone magical, or someone who believes.' She related what she knew to him.  
  
'Don't you see Uncle? There are witches and wizards in this world that we non-magical people know nothing of.'  
  
'Darling,' Uncle Samuel said worriedly, 'Let it go. If people hear you, they'll say you have schizophrenia. We know it's normal for your mind to run wild. It's harmless and fantastical. But they don't know that.'  
  
'Uncle, I understand. You do not believe. Like many, you are a sceptic. My mind works differently. Give me a week to warn them. They do exist, not in my mind, but in this world. Don't be frightened. Give me a week, and I shall return. I promise.'  
  
***  
  
Severus cursed about how he became tricked into shopping with Minerva in Hogsmeade. Today was Halloween, and instead of resting in his study, reading his books, Albus hurled him the task of buying Halloween treats for the students. He pictured the pupils laughing at the thought of their Potions Master shopping for them. He grinned malevolently when he next envisioned them gagging at the poisoned sweets the House-Elves handed out.  
  
'Why can't the House-Elves buy these disgusting tooth-destroyers?'  
  
'Because Albus wants us to have an excuse for coming down. Now tell me how much toffee we should purchase.' Minerva wondered down the aisle in the candy shop.  
  
'Buy the whole shop. We can afford it.'  
  
'That is generous of you.'  
  
'It saves bloody precious time.'  
  
'Language Severus.'  
  
'No one can hear us.'  
  
'True. It's useless asking your opinion but since you are here, I might as well put you to good use. Take this lot to the counter while I pick out more treats.'  
  
'I will not be caught dead buying sweets.'  
  
'Severus, stop whining.'  
  
'I! Whine!' But Minerva had already gone to the next shelve.  
  
Dumping the basket at the counter, Severus growled over the poor innocent shop helper who was struggling to check the prices under the thunderous expression. Behind him, he heard a couple of giddy-headed witches giggling. He switched his menacing glance at them. They quailed fast enough.  
  
'At last!' he cried when Minerva came bustling beside him. 'Have you forgotten our other assignment Madam?'  
  
'Yes yes,' said Minerva in a fluster. 'I didn't know the sheer increase in variety of sweets they have these days.'  
  
They paid the shop-helper, and had him send their purchases to Hogwarts before heading towards the Three Broomsticks.  
  
Finding an inconspicuous corner, they gave their orders to Rosmerta.  
  
'Why, bless me to see the Heads of Gryffindor and Slytherin together!'  
  
'Professor Dumbledore sent us to the candy shop. He insisted there be a stronger bond between the rival houses and that we must learn cooperation,' Minerva explained patiently.  
  
'Not before we strangle each other first,' said Severus smoothly. He smiled snidely at her. It took all his reflex and will not to yelp and jump from his seat when Minerva kicked his shin under the table.  
  
When they were left to themselves, Minerva looked around casually.  
  
'They are not here yet.'  
  
'Perhaps we are too late. Your distraction delayed us and they have left.'  
  
'Don't whine.'  
  
'Once more, I do not whine!'  
  
'Hush. They're here.'  
  
The two immediately bent over their drinks.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Cornelius Fudge greet Torimon Master outside the Three Broomsticks as though they had met coincidentally. To the public, the young wizard was a harmless charity organiser who looked after orphanages. The Order of the Phoenix became privy that he was one of the enlisted men in the Ministry of Secret Service (MOSS). It was an organisation set up by Fudge to root out opponents using evidence the members scouted out. The Order succeeded in covering their tracks thus far.  
  
Two days ago, Albus received news that Fudge was meeting Master in Hogsmeade as it would seem odd that Master, who on the outset had never had dealings with the Ministry, went to their office. Severus thought it was the stupidest idea he had ever heard. Still, it served Albus' purpose of eavesdropping into their converation.  
  
The two entered and sat in a booth close to them. Minerva cast a Sensitia spell to allow their hearing senses to be enhanced.  
  
'Any news?' asked Fudge.  
  
'Big this time,' said Master in a tone of earnest gravity. Severus snorted. Did the boy think he was acting in an abysmal melodrama?  
  
'There's a stirring in a village, half a day's broom-ride from here. Word is Bidmarck's been hiding there all along.' Severus and Minerva froze. Bidmarck was a Voldemort follower who like Severus, realised his mistakes. Unfortunately, he did not turn to anyone for help, and Severus did not know him. Soon after the Dark Lord's first fall, Bidmarck gave his testimony in the trials, and escaped.  
  
'The Muggles reported to the Muggle Aurors that he's dead. Boris and I went to see the body. It's the Unforgivable.'  
  
'You-Know-Who?'  
  
'We think so,' Master's voice became more and more hushed. 'We went to the village a couple of hours ago. The Muggles didn't know much, except that a woman claimed to hear they were going to attack Hogsmeade.'  
  
'Did you. . .?'  
  
'We Obliviated them. They won't remember Bidmarck. We also went to the hospital. There were two women staying there.'  
  
'Good work, very good work Master,' mutterred Fudge. 'When this is over, I shall give you the Order of Merlin, Second Class.'  
  
'Thank you Minister. It is our duty to protect the wizarding community.  
  
'Of course, well, we shouldn't be seen together too long. We'll meet another time.'  
  
Fudge got up. He spoke in a pompous voice so that the people around could hear clearly, 'It's good talking to you Master. Send me an invitation to the next charity concert. I'll make it a particular priority to attend.'  
  
'Yes Sir,' Fudge shook his hand vigorously. He remained in the booth after Fudge walked away.  
  
***  
  
Adela raced her horse at the fastest pace possible. The best part of the day had passed. She had slipped off before dawn. No one knew except Uncle Samuel. She meant to reach Hogsmeade in the late afternoon.  
  
Referring to the map, she saw her dot pass several villages. She estimated she would reach Hogsmeade in an hour. Suddenly, she remembered in horror that she needed to fetch Aunt Martha from town. She pulled at Laurie. 'Laurie, stop!' Whirling the horse-cart round, she urged him to gallop back. After a few minutes, she decided it was too late to fetch her aunt and it was more important to inform the people in Hogsmeade. Uncle Samuel could help her with Aunt Martha. She turned back and sped down the rough path.  
  
Evening approached sooner than she wanted. She had wasted two hours going back and forth the road, always feeling the urge to return home just as she started to continue her way to Hogsmeade.  
  
Adela's head was aching. Looking at her pocket-watch, she was shocked to discover the time. Looking at the map, she saw she remained in the same spot as she was two hours before.  
  
Something was wrong. Something was preventing her from moving on. What was it that Esmond said? Wards, wards to keep people away. These were more powerful. The magic folk were a private group indeed. She wondered just how many there were in this world.  
  
Shaking her head, she frowned in concentration. These wards affected her thoughts, but they did not seem to influence Laurie. She formulated a plan. She threw the leash over Laurie's mane where she could not reach for it. Taking some ropes from the cart, she tied herself securely to her seat. At further consideration, she took her handkerchief out to cover her mouth. She went on to bind her hands to the sides of the cart. Now that she could not move or speak, she tapped the cart with her foot. As Laurie began trotting, she took her shoes. Bare feet could not cause loud banging on the wood.  
  
Here goes nothing, she thought, not expecting the horror and pain awaiting her.  
  
***  
  
'The Ministry deserves more credit than I give them for,' Severus groaned.  
  
'Nor anyone of us,' Minerva paid the bill after waiting for Master to leave before them.  
  
'If you analyse it, it's not a vital piece of information. Shocking, yes, but useless. The Dark Lord only wanted to punish Bidmarck.' Severus opened the door for Minerva absentmindedly.  
  
'It may be he has something Voldemort wants. Who knows?' Minerva cloaked them in a Privacy Charm so none may hear them.  
  
'I don't recall Bidmarck as one of the most highly regarded followers. We'll have to tap into other sources to find out more.'  
  
'Let's return quickly. It's almost time for the Feast. We can't have the students wonder at our late arrival.' They were at the edge of the village.  
  
'Yes. We can't have them thinking we are in the middle of a duel.'  
  
Shouts of surprise caused the two professors to turn back. Severus heard Minerva gasp beside him. He could only stare.  
  
A horse-cart had found its way into Hogsmeade. An unmistakably Muggle horse- cart. And a Muggle girl was sitting right in it. Bound and gagged, she swayed from side to side. Her face was bloodless. On closer inspection, profuse sweat had broken out from her forehead and temples.  
  
Witches and wizards crowded round the cart, yelling in both anger and fear, forcing the brown stallion to halt. Severus and Minerva rushed forward, with Severus pushing their way to the front of the cart.  
  
The girl was tensed and crouching inward. Her eyes were shut tightly. Severus wondered if she were sufferring from a fit. Minerva climbed to her side and took off the gag. Steadying the girl, she said gently, 'Child, child, are you alright?'  
  
After several silent moments, the girl became aware of her surroundings. Opening her eyes, she looked about dazedly. Severus did not think she was absorbing the reality around her. Her eyes rested on Minerva.  
  
'Hogsmeade?' she whispered. Severus felt his heart leap. That voice. . .  
  
'Yes,' answered Minerva.  
  
'Thank the stars. . .' she promptly fainted against the Headmistress. 


	7. Chapter 6

Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. ~ The Sherlock Holmes series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle  
  
Chapter 6  
  
'Harry! Ron!' Hermione whispered urgently, 'Look up at the staff table.'  
  
Both boys turned, and spotted McGonagall appear beside Dumbledore. Harry tried to recall if he had ever seen his Head of House frown like that before.  
  
Apparently, Dumbledore saw fit to crease his forehead up as well. He seldom did it in front of the students.  
  
'Whatever it is, it must be important,' Ron murmured to them.  
  
'Do you think it's about some errand that the Headmaster has sent Professors McGonagall and Snape to do?'  
  
'If it is, it doesn't look like it's successful. Something's wrong.' Harry replied Hermione.  
  
She said acerbically, 'You mean something's not?'  
  
'Do you think it's Snape? I mean, he's not here after all.' Ron forgot the delicious custard he had been fighting over with Jordan. 'If he's been exposed as a. . .'  
  
'Hush!' Harry and Hermione cried simultaneously, leaving a few Gryffindors staring at them quizzically.  
  
Ron scowled, 'Oh, I see. That's very helpful in discretion.'  
  
'Can it Ron.' Harry said.  
  
'What?' Ron asked incredulously.  
  
Harry wondered if he was watching too many American movies. He shook his head at Ron to end the jibe and stopped himself from pursuing the latter train of thought. It was no use.  
  
Dumbledore stood up. Being ever conspicuous no matter what he did, the Headmaster attracted the attention of most students. Many stopped eating. He beamed and the twinkle returned to his eye. It had not occurred to Harry before that Dumbledore could use his benign countenance as a form of manipulation.  
  
Dumbledore waved his hand carelessly. 'Carry on, carry on. There is no need for alarm. Professor McGonagall merely wishes me to attend to one of your friends. It's the all-too-common ailment of overeating in an occasion like this.' Some of the younger students laughed. The older ones, more aware of the current situation in the wizarding world, experienced gloominess settle upon them. They tried to hide it, and put on a brave front. Dumbledore had not even tried giving a logical reason to explain the immediacy as to which the unknown incident required his personal attention. Surely Madam Pomfrey was sufficient to handle a sick patient.  
  
Malfoy was not so stupid to believe otherwise as well. Harry spied him exchanging smirks with Crabbe and Goyle. Were the Death-Eaters striking a blow at this time of year? Ever since talking with Snape, Harry wondered if Malfoy was not already in cahoots with Voldemort's followers. His father must be eager to prove his loyalty to go to the extent of providing Voldemort with a link to Hogwarts.  
  
Dumbledore's genial gaze swept past the Hall. For a split second, it landed on the Trio. Harry could see the graveness Dumbledore allowed to seep through for him and his friends. It worried him, and touched him at the same time, for it proved how much Dumbledore trusted them.  
  
Harry turned back to his plate shining as always of polished gold. His pile of food, green peas, his favourite steak and mashed potatoes did not hold the same appeal to his appetite. As he looked around as casually as he could, he saw the lighted pumpkins, the starry skyline and the chattering. He looked down his table, and saw his seniors, juniors and contemporaries merry.  
  
The Hall had returned to its festive mood.  
  
Were they all foolish not to see the inevitable showdown that would take place between the two warring camps? Or did they disregard the severity of the situations? Were they escapists?  
  
Harry had never regretted knowing his wizarding background. It freed him from his relatives' clutches and brought him into a world where he felt so right to belong in. He had found a home here. Yet sometimes, he wished he were just a normal boy, or at least a normal wizard boy who did not enter the world during this period but some other when things were calmer and quieter. His life had always been exciting, but he had not known true peace before.  
  
He sighed, "In a time like this, there are always times like this." They had to face it squarely, together.  
  
Hermione diverted his thoughts. 'Should we see what is happening?'  
  
Ron countered, 'Hermione, we don't even know where the professors are. They may have left Hogwarts.'  
  
'I don't think so,' said Hermione triumphantly, 'Dumbledore just about hinted that he wanted us to be wherever they are.'  
  
'And how do you. . .' but Harry was interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Dobby standing on the table in front of them.  
  
'Mr. Potter and Weezy, and Miss Granger, Professor McGonagall is wanting to sees yous after the Feast. Yes, Dobby brings message.'  
  
'But where Dobby?'  
  
'Professor McGonagall leads yous outside the Hall.'  
  
'Thank you Dobby.' When Dobby disappeared, Hermione turned to her partners, 'See?'  
  
'Very astute, Hermione,' Ron's sarcasm was practically dripping. 'Why don't you tell us what we are called for?'  
  
Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. She turned to reply Lavender's inquiry, 'Maybe punishment.'  
  
'It's no use speculating or brooding over it,' Harry told his two friends, not wanting to attract more curiousity. 'Let's just eat.'  
  
"And see," Harry heaved another sigh, "what unpleasantness await."  
  
***  
  
'What the fuck. . .?' Black would have gone into a further string of colourful language, but Severus cut him off.  
  
'This is no time for histrionics Black,' Severus sneered.  
  
'I was in the vicinity! As an Animagus of course. The whole village is talking about a Muggle girl who managed to barge into Hogsmeade.'  
  
'Quiet.' Severus peered through the slit between the curtains enclosing the bed. Poppy was still taking the girl's readings. Fortunately for them, there were no other patients around in the Hospital Wing this night.  
  
'Can you just tell me whether it's true? That girl there, she's a Muggle?'  
  
Severus rubbed his brow. 'Yes,' he whispered tiredly, 'Undoubtedly.'  
  
'Are the wards faulty? How can a Muggle. . .'  
  
'She was tied and gagged to prevent her from moving in the horse-cart.'  
  
Severus felt ill saying it. She looked on the brink of death when she fainted. She must have had struggled against her bonds. Closer inspection had shown the skin on her wrists and ankles broken and dried blood had stained the ropes. By persuading the wizards and witches that it was quicker to bring her to Hogwarts and not to St. Mungo's, he and Minerva managed to evade all questions as they hurried back with her, informing those who were concerned that they themselves would contact the Ministry of Magic.  
  
Did she scream? He did not dare conjecture about the horrors she had experienced during the slow ride. The wards were wielded such as to deter all non-magical humans. The fact that she could not move allowed her to pass. Queries of how she entered without sounding the alarms set up in Hogsmeade were answered when Minerva searched her and found a magical map in her possession.  
  
Just then, Albus and Minerva came in. Minerva locked and warded the doors.  
  
'How's our patient?' Albus asked.  
  
Poppy drew the curtains back after she finished her check. 'Exhaustion. I've healed the bruises. She's safe in her mental frame. She must have a formidable spirit to not have the wards break her mind.'  
  
'Do you think she's dangerous? I mean, who knows where she comes from? What if she's under Imperius or. . .'  
  
Albus and Minerva discussed the matter with Black as rationally as possible. Severus ignored Black's tirade. Only the girl could answer their questions.  
  
She was lovelier than he imagined. Her hair was swept from her forehead and face, and spread over the pillow. He reached out to tug a lock behind her ear. It was light and velvet to his touch. His index finger strayed to her cheek. She was here now, tangible to his touch. She was not a fragment of his memory. She was real. Desperation seized him for a moment when he had a desire to see her eyes again. His lips moved involuntarily as though to call her. But he did not know her name.  
  
'Severus?'  
  
He turned round to face Albus. Minerva and Black had left.  
  
'Severus,' Albus took his arm, 'She will be well. Leave her to Poppy. We have to return to the Feast.'  
  
Severus nodded mechanically. As they walked down the corridors, everything appeared static to him.  
  
'Sirius has gone to find out more. It may be that she's from the Muggle village that Minerva has told me you two heard from Fudge and Master.'  
  
'Is she the white butterfly?'  
  
'If so, I do wonder what influence she'll bring.'  
  
It was as Albus drew him into conversation that Severus realised they were walking in a longer route to the Hall.  
  
'How much do you want to talk about?' Severus could not help smiling.  
  
'You've noticed.' Albus chuckled slightly and slowed his walking pace. Severus followed.  
  
'When Sirius and Minerva left, I saw that the girl. had affected you. Coupled with her age. . .'  
  
'You put two and two together.' Severus said, 'You're right. She's the one.'  
  
'How can you be sure?'  
  
'I recognised her voice.'  
  
Albus nodded, 'I thought so. Fate works her mysteries in the strangest ways.'  
  
'Humph!' was Severus' only reaction.  
  
There was a most maddening twinkle sparkling in his mentor's eye. Albus chose the oddest times to be enjoying himself. However, he remained tactful and did not prod further, 'I've asked Minerva to bring Harry, Hermione and Ron to see her.'  
  
'Whatever for?'  
  
'Since they wish to help in the fight, they'll have to know every incident that's taking place. Besides, Harry and Hermione grew up as Muggles. They may communicate with her better.'  
  
'As you say.'  
  
'Argus will see to the night patrols.'  
  
They reached the doors to the Hall. Severus could hear the noise behind. Albus placed his hand on the knob. Severus waited for him to turn it.  
  
'A word of advice, my boy. . .' Severus could see Albus' mind ticking away. It seemed he chose not to give it verbal form. 'No matter. You will learn.'  
  
Severus arched his eyebrow in question. Albus winked at him before leading them to the staff table.  
  
Someday, he would learn to crack the Eccentric that was Albus Dumbledore.  
  
***  
  
Black came back after Minerva explained the situation to Potter and his friends. Adding to the scarce information was the confirmation that the unconscious patient was from that village, and that Master and his men did a very thorough work at Obliviating them.  
  
'Her uncle seems, or more accurately, seemed, to know what she's doing. He told me she was harmless. But he can't remember anything more except that she's gone to do some errand for a week. Anyway, I went to Bidmarck's house. Been living like royalty if you ask me. A simple counter spell on the decorations and furniture was all it took to reverse them to their actual state. Gold and diamonds. I sent them to the Order for keeping.'  
  
'The point Black,' said Severus impatiently.  
  
'The point Snape,' growled Black, 'is that everything's fine except the bookshelf. Compared to other parts of the shelves, there's no dust on some portions. Some books or whatever used to be there are missing.'  
  
Severus was impressed. 'I didn't think you were capable of such sharp mental faculties, Black,' he drawled, 'My compliments.'  
  
'Why,' Black said mockingly as he widened his eyes in exaggeration and placed a hand on his heart, 'Such high praise Professor Snape!'  
  
The three Gryffindors were grinning at their verbal sparring. Severus ended it by musing over the new piece of information.  
  
'It's most probably books. I remember Bidmarck to be extremely neat. Of course!' he cried. Many years ago, the Dark Lord had commanded Bidmarck to search for the set of Dark Books he had been unable to locate. Upon failing to accomplish his task, Bidmarck was severely punished.  
  
'What do these books contain?' Minerva asked.  
  
'Voldemort believes they hold the key to limitless power in Arithmacy. One can simply see in clear picture what the future presents, and have the ability to change it. They were done by a group of Seers, witches born long before the age of language. I don't know how these books are written. Perhaps they are in code or in the form of runes.'  
  
Miss Granger said in horror. 'If Voldemort learns to thwart the future. . .'  
  
'Then our every move can be checked.' Albus agreed. 'Do not worry. I have tried learning more about these books at the time Severus told me about them. It would take Voldemort a great deal of time and effort to solve the mysteries hidden in the books. They are unlike any power we know, for they do not contain Power, but are Power itself. It is difficult to control them.'  
  
'It's strange Bidmarck did not destroy them.' Poppy wondered.  
  
'Remember,' Severus cautioned, 'We're merely pondering the possibility that it is those books that the others have taken. We're not even sure they took anything at all. But as hypothesis, it may be that Bidmarck could not destroy them and he felt it more prudent to keep them to himself.'  
  
'You must prepare yourself then.' Minerva said, 'I have a feeling Voldemort will summon you to aid him. You are one of the most intelligent wizards he has.'  
  
Severus smiled sardonically, 'I can't wait. Better knowledge than ignorance in a time like this, isn't it?'  
  
The meeting settled, Albus allowed the students to look in at the girl.  
  
Assured that the patient was well, Miss Granger launched into a detailed discussion of wards and the theoretical outcomes produced, the difference in effects on Muggles and wizards and witches, the origin of the charms and the present modifications. . .  
  
Weaseley looked apologetically at Albus and Minerva, 'She can like that when she's enthusiastic.'  
  
Albus did not mind. He engaged himself in the exchanging of ideas and concepts, feeding into Miss Granger's boundless memory bank.  
  
Severus turned abruptly to Black, 'Did you find out what her name is?'  
  
'Who?' Evidently, there were oscillations in Black's intellect.  
  
'The Muggle girl.'  
  
'Oh, yes, I was talking with her uncle, you know. She's an orphan. Born in the mountains in a little hut owned by her parents. Her parents died in a forest fire. It's a miracle she escaped. Her uncle and aunt, the Cowells, found her on a tuft at the edge of the forest. She was just two.'  
  
Severus absorbed it. 'And her name?'  
  
'Adela Stanton.'  
  
'Adela,' Severus rolled the unusual name over his tongue. Fanciful and delicate. 'Appropriate.'  
  
'What?'  
  
Severus gave an enigmatic smile that served to irritate Black. It was the I- know-something-you-don't symptom, according to Lucius. Severus' spirits dimmed.  
  
Black misinterpreted the change in demeanour. 'If you have a heart, I'll say you're sympathetic toward the girl. As it is, I think you have sinister intentions for her. I'll tell Dumbledore about this.'  
  
Severus knew not to retaliate.  
  
'She's beautiful,' Miss Granger reflected his thoughts. She took Adela's hand in compassion. 'Serene. Almost like a Veela,' she shot Weaseley a wicked glance, 'Not as vain nor spiteful.'  
  
'How would you know?' Weaseley asked, though his heart was not into the opposing argument.  
  
'Woman's intuition. I bet she's gentle.'  
  
'I'm sure you're right.' Albus said. 'It's late.'  
  
At his cue, the three youngsters greeted them with a 'Goodnight.' Potter hugged his godfather.  
  
'Can we come tomorrow sir?' Potter asked for permission.  
  
'If you can without arousing your schoolmates' suspicion. Sirius, come tomorrow as well.'  
  
'Yes, Professor.' Black changed into his dog-form and left the premises first.  
  
When the sound of the three students' feet petered off, Minerva checked the girl one last time to her satisfaction.  
  
'It's almost like you don't trust me sometimes,' Poppy complained good- naturedly.  
  
Minerva smiled back, 'I am just checking the signs. I think I shall stay here tonight. After all, she is my responsibility.'  
  
'How are we going to explain to the Ministry?'  
  
'We'll make our plans tomorrow. Come Severus,' Albus said.  
  
'I wish to stay around. She's my responsibility as well.' At Minerva's raised eyebrows that threatened to merge with her fringe, he added hastily, 'We brought her here together, didn't we?'  
  
'True,' Albus covered for Severus.  
  
Poppy was as equally surprised by the Potion Master's uncharacteristic gesture as Minerva, but she refrained from commenting.  
  
'I'll arrange the other beds,' she said.  
  
'Excellent, goodnight then.'  
  
'Goodnight Albus.'  
  
***  
  
There were voices, but they fleeted over her. Adela failed to distinguish each of them. They were muffled. Her ears buzzed. She was too weary to open her eyes or move in any other way. She felt boneless, but at least the empty weight pressing on her was lifted.  
  
She felt the welcome absence of pain. She knew she was looked after. Thankful, she sank into the mattress and slipped into slumber, one of rest this time.  
  
It was the strangest sleep. She was aware of time passing, but not what her surroundings were. Drifting into consciousness, she calculated that it might be morning already.  
  
Where was she? At Hogsmeade? She did arrive, did she not? Surely she had not dreamt that.  
  
She felt dull. Nothing helped her out of the darkness enveloping her. She was caught in the storm swallowing her up. "No. . ." She gasped as she lapsed into the bottomless pit again. The sensation was similar to the one experienced when she passed through the wards. Voiceless shouts warning her off their territory. . . Echoes of loved ones calling her back. . . A bombardment of reminders of things she did not do, charging one after another till her mind whirled in vain. . . Undiluted fear flinging itself upon her, invading her, filling her. . .  
  
She snapped, and helplessly thrashed about the bed.  
  
Someone was holding her. Someone warm and comforting, trying to soothe her. Yet she struggled.  
  
"Oh please, no."  
  
***  
  
'Minerva! Poppy! FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, ANYONE!' Severus roared.  
  
Minerva was rudely awakened. Hastily, she hurried after Poppy towards the bed.  
  
'WHERE IS A NURSE WHEN YOU NEED HER?'  
  
'Severus, calm yourself!' Minerva said anxiously.  
  
The girl was suffering a relapse or a fit of some kind. At times she cringed inwards and trembled; at times she tossed wildly, trying to escape Severus' hold on her. She was also gritting her teeth. Severus locked his arms tightly round her to prevent her from jumping off the bed or hurting herself. Minerva stood by helplessly as Poppy rushed to remove a small bottle from the cupboard.  
  
'Can that work on a Muggle?' she asked, surprised. Potions, containing magical properties, were ineffective in Muggles. An unpleasant parallel was how witches and wizards alike could see Dementors but not Muggles.  
  
'It's a sedative. Some of the Muggleborns prefer it to the bitter concoctions Severus makes.'  
  
'This is no time for critiquing potions!' Severus spat. He snatched the bottle from Poppy after she uncorked it and forced open the girl's jaw and poured the liquid down the girl's throat.  
  
Minerva watched with her colleagues tensely. She breathed a sigh of relief when the girl quieted down and slumped against Severus. For some inexplicable reason, this Muggle girl brought out her maternal instinct. There was an. . . aura about her.  
  
'Adela,' Minerva called softly. Although she usually addressed a person by his last name, but she had a gut feeling everyone called Adela by her name. It suited her. 'Can you hear us?'  
  
The girl frowned slightly. Stirring a little more, her eyelids fluttered briefly before she opened her eyes and met those of Severus.  
  
Minerva had concentrated so much on her that she had not bothered about Severus. What she saw robbed her of speech momentarily.  
  
She should have had suspected. Severus had spent the whole night sitting by the girl's bed without sleeping. In part, it was true that Adela should be watched over all the time before she gained consciousness. However, when Minerva and Poppy had volunteered taking turns, Severus had insinuated that he was perfectly capable in lasting the night and that two elderly witches were unnecessary.  
  
She should have had been able to spot his diversionary tactics after knowing him throughout these years. Was she really that old to be blind to the signs, to his actions and his reaction just this morning?  
  
Recognition lit up Adela's face. Her pale face glowed radiantly and her smile was as sweet as a child's.  
  
'Are you a wizard then?'  
  
Minerva had not seen Severus as gentle as he was now. He was cradling her protectively, 'Yes. How do you feel?'  
  
'Better. It's calm here.'  
  
Severus understood. 'Where were you?'  
  
'I was lost within myself. I was afraid I wouldn't find my way out.'  
  
'The wards?'  
  
'They wouldn't have attacked me so relentlessly if I had turned back.'  
  
'You're safe here.'  
  
'Is this Hogsmeade?'  
  
'You're in Hogwarts. Rest,' he said swiftly, belying his worry when her voice weakened. 'Whilst we are eager for answers, it'll be wiser if you regain your strength first. These ladies will be with you.'  
  
Adela nodded. Turning to see Minerva and Poppy, she thanked them.  
  
Minerva became passive as Poppy went to help Severus settle Adela on the bed. Poppy covered her with warm blankets. Severus walked to Minerva.  
  
'We'll make it for breakfast,' he said.  
  
Minerva smiled, 'Let us go then.'  
  
She deliberately stood to the right of Severus and headed towards the left of the corridor after stepping out of the Hospital Wing, steering Severus into that direction.  
  
Severus scowled, 'Oh wait. What do you want?'  
  
There was a lilt in her voice, 'Why, how did you guess?'  
  
'Because Albus took me along this route last night too.'  
  
'Alas!' Minerva stopped her innocent façade.  
  
'How abrupt your change in expression Minerva. All Puck one minute, Elinor the next.'  
  
'If you must know. . .'  
  
'You're curious about mine knowing Miss Stanton.'  
  
'I can't hide it from you, can I? Then again, you weren't very subtle yourself. You care for her?'  
  
Severus was taken aback. Silent for awhile, he replied steadily, 'It's not as complicated as you seem to think. I've only met her once.'  
  
'It would appear that the meeting left you a great impression.'  
  
'Let's say I owe her.'  
  
Minerva did not expect Severus to divulge the details. He was always an intensely private man. She had to be content.  
  
Unless. . .  
  
'Perhaps Miss Stanton will tell me if I ask her,' Minerva teased.  
  
'Yes,' Severus gave a wry look, 'You will ask her.'  
  
'Well, you left her a great impression too.'  
  
Severus looked at her sourly, 'If that was meant as a compliment, you are tragically wrong. Of course I left her an impression! First, no Muggle wears robes such as we wizards do. Second, just to inform you, I warned her to get out of my path.'  
  
'Dear me! Ever the grumpy lad, aren't you?' Minerva shook her head in exasperation, 'And you accuse me of rapid mood swings.'  
  
'Don't you start.'  
  
'Oh no, we'll reach the Hall soon.' Minerva continued, 'I think I'm going to be very fond of Miss Stanton.'  
  
Severus shrugged.  
  
'I'm glad she's here.' Minerva intoned mysteriously, hoping to frustrate Severus.  
  
'Minerva, are you taunting me?'  
  
It was Minerva's turn to shrug.  
  
"You never were the favourite student, the star in school Severus," Minerva sank into melancholy introspection, "Undeniably brilliant, but you were so morose and sour in temperament. We were all surprised when Albus announced that he had appointed you as a professor here. Askance even. There were more experienced, yes, more respectable ones than you were. We didn't know his reasons. We didn't know, what you did. Did you blame us for neglecting you? For failing to look past your shield as a student? For the affection we gave James? Perhaps that's why you went along well with Meredith when you came to work. She's the only one not from Hogwarts. Did you hate us?" Minerva thought sadly, "Hate us so much it turned you away from us? And what happened when you found yourself trapped? Did you really believe that Albus would have sent you to Azkaban?"  
  
'Minerva?'  
  
'What, Severus?' she said vaguely, refocusing.  
  
'Nothing. You looked. . . Never mind,' but puzzlement lingered in his voice.  
  
Severus went to take his place at the staff table. Minerva greeted Albus and sat down.  
  
She observed Severus from the corner of the eye. Already, he was engaged in a heated discussion with Johnathan about Memory Charms in a continuing episode that had spread for a week.  
  
She smiled secretly. Severus was another one who could not stop thinking of research and knowledge even in dire circumstances. One could distract him with anything that sparked the intellectual interest and saw his leg without him noticing. Yet he was never a participant in discussions as a student. He had kept to himself.  
  
"Ay, that's the rub, isn't it? It was all the more convenient for you to leave him alone. So much easier to lavish all your attention on the Marauders. Then his teaching was all the more justification you needed for disliking him. And then, bit by bit, you got to know him."  
  
Yes, that was where the staff started to feel genuine affection and acceptance towards Severus, bad sarcasm and all. Since the resurrection of Voldemort as well, they understood why Albus placed such trust in him.  
  
"You're a difficult man, but a good one. I pray that happiness may come to you."  
  
***  
  
Adela gingerly took up another item, after receiving a nasty surprise from a Howling Book, one of the various essentials in Magical Creatures class, courtesy of a half-giant called Rubeus Hagrid.  
  
She asked Hermione, 'And this?'  
  
'It's a Remembrall. It's supposed to remind you of an assignment you've forgotten.'  
  
'That's useful.'  
  
'Alright, not so useful,' Adela said when Hermione told her about the disadvantages behind the object.  
  
The both of them had been together for the better part of the afternoon. Hermione was explaining enthusiastically about the wizarding world, how magic was controlled and used, the cultures, the histories, and of course, the legend of Harry Potter and the present war. She was slightly breathless by now.  
  
Smiling, Adela handed her a glass of water.  
  
This was one of nicest hospitals she had ever been. Large and airy with high ceilings, the settings were not drab, dreary or sterile. Wooden carvings intricately woven into the doors, windows and drawers, jasper draperies bellowing lightly, the heavy smell of honey and figs permeating the rooms. They added to the fairy-tale quality she was immersed in.  
  
'I'm awed.'  
  
'Well, I felt like that when I learnt about it,' Hermione said sympathetically.  
  
'How did you cope?'  
  
'As all the other Muggleborns do. We adapt. It's easy. It's no different from any Muggle society, just with magical attachments.'  
  
Adela toyed with a corner of the bed-sheet. 'Do you think I'll be Obliviated too?'  
  
'That's for Professor Dumbledore to decide. You'll see him soon.'  
  
'And Professor McGonagall? Professor Snape? Will I see Harry and Ron too?'  
  
'They'll be here.'  
  
True to Hermione's word, they arrived one by one in the evening.  
  
Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey fussed over her like Aunt Martha, while Albus Dumbledore was the grandfather any child could hope for. Like Father Christmas. Jovial and wise. One could practically bask in the warmth of the wizard.  
  
After relating what she knew, he said, 'It coincides with what information we have.'  
  
Adela laughed silently in self-deprecation.  
  
'What is it Miss Stanton?' The Headmaster's eyes shone.  
  
'Well, I shouldn't have come, should I? All that trouble to tell you what you already know.'  
  
'On the contrary. You've settled speculations that Hogsmeade would indeed be Voldemort's next target. And I am always happy to meet a Muggle.'  
  
'You magic folk are quite isolative, aren't you?'  
  
'You Muggles drove us into hiding,' a deep voice said.  
  
He had been standing slightly apart from the rest of them during this night. So, he still lurked in dark areas. There was a challenge gleaming in his eyes, as he waited expectantly for her answer.  
  
What she had to say ostensibly satisfied him. 'Ah, but it is the wizarding community who brewed up the superstitions and whispered frightful tales of magic to instill fear in the Muggles. I have to add that it's a terrible name you people give us.'  
  
'Touché Miss Stanton,' Albus chuckled. 'Perhaps that was why the wizard who picked that term chose to remain incognito.'  
  
'Am I free to go?'  
  
'Not yet, we need to know whether it is safe for you to return to your village.'  
  
Adela nodded thoughtfully, 'The Ministry.'  
  
'You're clever.'  
  
'Will my home be at risk?'  
  
'I don't believe so.'  
  
Professor McGonagall asked, 'Is there anything you need for the duration of your stay?'  
  
Adela smiled, 'I would like to take this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to explore the school, if not Hogsmeade.'  
  
Harry, with his green eyes and messy hair, threw a look at his professors, before suggesting gamely, 'You can borrow my Invisibility Cloak.'  
  
There was an unmistakably offensive snort from the corner.  
  
Adela liked the idea immensely, 'If it's possible.'  
  
'I have no doubt,' Professor Dumbledore chimed in, 'You are free to roam the school. The children. the students,' he corrected himself when he saw the three look moanfully at him can see you in the day. Minerva will arrange for your rooms to be prepared. And Severus. . .' he looked back. There was a deceptively light tone when he continued, 'Well, he can help you in any way he wishes.'  
  
Adela grinned, almost wickedly. She wondered how the solitary man would cope with her endless chatter again. She was innocent, but not stupid. After Hermione had eventually told her about the Potions Master's past, she knew why any sensible person would prefer avoiding him. Fortunately, there were his colleagues and friends who were even more sensible than average. They knew he was worthy of trust.  
  
She had given hers a long time ago.  
  
***  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Puck is from Shakespeare and Elinor Dashwood is from Jane Austen. 


	8. Chapter 7

Each of us wages a private battle each day between the grand fantasies we have for ourselves and what actually happens. ~ Cathy Guisewite  
  
Chapter 7  
  
'My Lord,' Severus sprawled himself onto the cold stone floor, 'I am truly honoured to receive your attention.'  
  
Voldemort chuckled indulgently, 'Modesty Severus? Come now, rise.'  
  
'Thank you for your generosity my Lord,' Severus stood up and kept his head lowered in servitude.  
  
As expected, he had been summoned to the caves where Voldemort was hiding for the past several months. The Death-Eaters never knew where they were exactly, being brought to his presence through the touch of their own Mark. The present caves were uncommonly large. Rows of flaming torches lined the sides and a bonfire was burning in the middle of the caves. The air was frosty, though Severus failed to deduce if it was the result of the natural climate or the work of Voldemort.  
  
The caves were relatively empty. Voldemort seemed to revel in the spaciousness and gothic grandeur of them. Even his throne was modelled to suit the surroundings. Meanwhile, that blasted snake was still alive and apparently thriving. It was certainly fatter than he had last seen it.  
  
He stood as aloof as possible when Nagini coiled itself around his ankles before sliding back to its master.  
  
'Nagini's simply smelling you Severus.' There was a trace of amusement in Voldemort's voice.  
  
Severus bowed.  
  
Voldemort hissed at Nagini and it soon left them alone. 'Follow me Severus. There is something of particular interest I want to show you.'  
  
Severus said cautiously, 'My Lord, the potions. . .'  
  
'Hand them to Wormtail,' Voldemort waved a careless hand, 'I detest the sight of them.' He sighed, 'What is one to do? To be dependent on a few measly bottles of liquid. But all that may change. . .'  
  
He turned into one of the tunnels and Severus followed him hurriedly.  
  
The path was dark. Severus could barely see the outline of Voldemort. At last, he saw an ice blue light shining out of a corner. The hole they eventually reached was found to be lighted by a single source.  
  
'My Lord, these books. . .' Severus breathed.  
  
'They were in Bidmarck's possession,' Voldemort's back was facing him.  
  
'Bidmarck?' Severus feigned ignorance.  
  
Voldemort said sternly, 'He was a disappointment. Come here.'  
  
Severus stood beside him and studied the books carefully.  
  
There were four of them in total, each with a plain leather cover and an individual rune.  
  
'Power, Love, Knowledge and Wealth.'  
  
'The four things that humans most desire.' Voldemort ran his hand over them and they shimmered more brightly. Severus heard the Dark Lord hiss menacingly. Voldemort removed his hand. 'Touch them Severus. Tell me what you feel.'  
  
Severus touched them with his fingertips and gasped at the electrifying sensations coursing through his body at the mere contact. He felt his heart gripped with loneliness, with a hindsight that told him of desolation in isolation that was swiftly replaced by the most sated feeling of comfort as an image of a delicate hand stretched out to reach him. It promised of a new place, of peace, of paradise, with swirling clouds in violet haze, flaming flowers that brightly blaze and morning fields of amber grain. . .  
  
Severus took his hand away before his face betrayed any emotion.  
  
'Tell me Severus,' the cold voice crushed the wisp of vision he yearned to keep.  
  
He needed to tread his words carefully, 'I feel fear transformed to singular joy my Lord.'  
  
'Weakness of the past and desire for the future.' Voldemort smirked in satisfaction, 'When Wormtail touched them, he squealed at the sight of James Potter trying to kill him when he was discovered to be my vassal, then he saw himself as one of the most powerful wizards who had the respect of everyone.'  
  
Severus grimaced. Wormtail was such an apt name. He was the only man who made him cringe in distaste. He avoided seeing him as much as possible, so as not to recall his one mistake in misjudgment and maligning Black more than fifteen years ago. He also hated the servile attitude Wormtail had and that look of awe whenever Voldemort did something to inspire it. It reminded him that he had experienced the same feeling before by the Dark Lord, when he was still young, impressionable and foolish.  
  
'What did you see precisely Severus?' Voldemort asked in a deceivingly gentle tone. That control of his emotions, to use whatever tool to strike at a person's weakest point. . . Severus had once succumbed to it, believing that only Voldemort had accepted him for who he was.  
  
'I see control slipping away my Lord. then I saw all encompassing knowledge.' Severus lied. He could not expose himself any further to this wizard that was not a man.  
  
'And do you think you can achieve that aim?'  
  
'Only with your guidance and leadership Master.'  
  
Voldemort laughed, tickled at Severus' flattery. Severus stopped himself from flinching. The laughter was the harshest and ugliest sound ever emitted.  
  
'You have always craved knowledge Severus. You are one of my rare subordinates who do. You remind me of my younger days, when I scout the corners of the world in pursuit of the Dark Arts. But why do they call these skills dark? They are the most refined powers that one can use. No matter. We shall change the face of the earth.' He indicated the books, 'These will help us.'  
  
'My Lord, I still do not understand. . .'  
  
'Don't you Severus? These are the Books of Fate. There was no written language when they were created. So they were simply known as Knowledge. The very thing after your heart, isn't it?'  
  
'They are very valuable possessions.'  
  
'Yes, but they will be more so if we find out how to use them. See what happens when I open them.'  
  
Voldemort chanted softly and the covers flung out. A crack like that of a thunder erupted and Severus was blinded momentarily by the light. There was a raw energy in these books and it shot out at him, challenging his own magical powers. Involuntarily, he lifted his arms to beat down the onslaught to no avail. When he recovered, he saw a kind of projection of blurred images hovering above the books. A voice, neither male nor female, filled the room and reverberated inside his ears.  
  
'Power woven into book  
  
That which thou behold.  
  
Wither a single look,  
  
Shouldest thou be bold:  
  
Thy own powers be forfeit,  
  
When we find thee unfit.  
  
Power, Wealth, Knowledge, Love-  
  
Be careful what thou desire.  
  
Our wild magic from above  
  
Can bring thee to the mire.  
  
Doest thou not back away  
  
Now thee knoweth thou cannot us sway?  
  
Thy will to us bend,  
  
Only we may destroy,  
  
Hence upon this depend:  
  
If thou wants to thwart our ploy,  
  
Thou wilt fail, thou shalt perish,  
  
The end of the future we finish.'  
  
The light flashed again in spite and then dissolved to the initial state. The books remain opened.  
  
Voldemort spoke, 'I have interpreted the message, through reading and analysing other books and accounts of the later generations. These do not belong to the Dark, as the officials will have anyone believe. They are of a plane higher than ours, rising above the petty disputes in this mortal world.' His eyes gleamed with greed, 'Imagine controlling this Wild Magic. That is the ultimate invincibility.'  
  
Severus was wise enough to know no one could possibly withstand the vengeance and punishment of Wild Magic if anyone dared to grasp it in his hand. It was seldom heard of now, but the existence of Wild Magic was known to all who were magical.  
  
'Your Grace, why were these books made, when they are not intended to serve anyone?'  
  
'They were once used by members chosen by the Wild Magic, and passed down the line to descendants and disciples. These men and women lived in seclusion. They do not mingle with the outside world. But they could not prevent the oncoming corruption in the world. Threatened, the numbers of these members dwindled, till they were no more. Wild Magic was simply laid to rest. These books and other relics are all that's left of that past. Safe, for no one has ever managed to use them. They destroy the lowly magic in the human frame, and thus the witch or wizard as well.'  
  
'I see.'  
  
'Now, they are in my hands. I need you to devise such a way that I may use them without harming my powers.'  
  
'But My Lord, that's impossible!' It was the wrong thing to say, but Severus had to.  
  
'You will find a way.' Voldemort suddenly stood tall in front of him. There was just an inch of space between them and Severus felt the snake-breath of his master chilling his face and blood beneath. 'To remind you of your place and what happens when you disobey my commands.' He stood back and drew out his wand.  
  
Severus wandered idly if Jonathan and Poppy had been warned by Albus that they had to sacrifice their sleep. He closed his eyes and whimpered convincingly, 'Master. . .'  
  
'Crucio.' The two syllables were uttered.  
  
The pain hit him, and Severus screamed.  
  
***  
  
'You should have gone straight to the Hospital Wing!' Minerva twittered in her nervousness.  
  
Severus groaned in reply.  
  
'You can't expect him to talk Minerva.' Albus said tersely.  
  
'Of all places! The greenhouse was the worst. . . No one goes there!'  
  
'He can't navigate his way.'  
  
They hurried him to Poppy. Albus immediately carried out the healing ritual.  
  
'Foolish, Severus,' Albus finally let slip his anxiety after Severus was allowed to rest on the bed. 'Foolish.'  
  
Severus did not hear him.  
  
'He's asleep Headmaster. Nothing can disturb him.' Poppy said grimly. 'His recovery is gradually taking longer. His constitution is becoming weaker.'  
  
'He will resent you saying that Madam Pomfrey.' Albus said matter-of- factly, 'He will insist on taking up his school duties as soon as he wakens.'  
  
'You must persuade him to rest. He listens to you.' Minerva begged him.  
  
'Ay, but he listens selectively. He will teach tomorrow.'  
  
Albus hated himself for being particularly harsh, especially when this concerned Severus. He never seemed to find the right time to finally let the young wizard throw the shackles of his burden. They were in a war. No one, not the students should have an inkling of something amiss.  
  
*I wish I could lay your arms down Severus. I wish I could slay your demons, but it is not for me to do it. It is for another. Why can you not have the peace you deserve?* Albus blamed the heavens. *See what this war is bringing. Misery and more misery. Why do you play us by the pawn? Can you not bring aid?*  
  
The night was calm and quiet when Albus walked down to the Hospital Wing four hours later to check on Severus. When he stepped in, he found himself in an unforgettable wonder.  
  
Adela was sitting beside Severus' bed. Of course, she was still recuperating in here. She held his hand, speaking softly as moans escaped Severus' lips. He was apparently having a nightmare, much to Albus' distress.  
  
Then Severus opened his eyes and sat up. He looked about his surroundings wildly. Adela clasped his arm to bring him back. At her touch, he turned to her.  
  
'Adela?' There was an unexpected vulnerability in Severus' voice.  
  
She blinked.  
  
'Did you call me?' She bit her lower lip and frowned. She probably supposed it was a stupid question.  
  
'Where am I?'  
  
'In the Hospital Wing.'  
  
'Am I dead?' Severus shook both her and Albus, who continued watching from the doorway.  
  
'No,' she said as mildly as possible, 'no.'  
  
Even from afar, Albus saw Severus' eyes were exceptionally bright and filled with unspoken vulnerability. His throat constricted in pain.  
  
Severus lifted his hand and his fingertips touched Adela's cheek. She did not flinch. She did not withdraw herself when he suddenly grasped her hand in desperation.  
  
'Did I disturb you?' Severus asked raggedly.  
  
Adela used her free hand to cover his, 'You did with your snoring.'  
  
Her bland remark caused the knot of tension in him to uncoil. He huffed and summoned his strength, 'I must remedy that. Still, ten points off. . . well, at Professor McGonagall's expense for your cheek, shall we say?'  
  
She grinned, the tightness in her own face lifted when she heard him return to his dry, caustic self. 'I suppose I can't ask what has brought you to sleep in the Hospital Wing?' she asked casually.  
  
His surprise was genuine, 'Surely you'd know.'  
  
'Madam Pomfrey locked me out of the room when they brought you in.'  
  
'Ah,' was all he would say. Then, uncertain, 'You didn't see me. . .?'  
  
She shook her head. 'It doesn't matter. You should get some sleep.'  
  
He smiled wryly, 'This is wonderful. Now I have another nanny besides Madam Pomfrey to fuss over me.' Gingerly, he propped himself against the headrest. Adela wisely refrained from steadying him. Severus would wither under well-intentioned but needless protection.  
  
'Haven't we done this before?' Severus asked grouchily.  
  
'What, with me in the bed and you perching over me? You see, the roles are reversed this time.'  
  
'It grows tedious.'  
  
Adela agreed, 'Let's not make it a habit.'  
  
Albus noticed their hands were still entwined. Severus noticed it as well and slowly separated them. Calmly, he bid her goodnight. Albus contemplated that Severus did not meet Adela's gaze.  
  
She watched him slip into slumber once more. This time, she was satisfied with the ease in his posture. Gently, she covered him with blankets and went back to her bed.  
  
Albus returned quietly to his rooms, very pleased with what he had seen. Seeing Fawkes, he said cheerily to his long-time companion, 'My friend, it appears some things have greater healing powers than your tears after all.'  
  
He received a sour glance from the phoenix.  
  
***  
  
'And Potter has found sight of the Snitch! Now, Penatus is pursuing behind. Uh oh, Penatus's catching up!'  
  
The audience roared in a mix of anger and excitement when the two Seekers swooped low over them.  
  
'Now the devious Snitch is out of sight again! Meanwhile, Hufflepuff has scored another ten points, by Livis!' Colin Creevy, the new commentator after Jordan left, continued yelling. 'If this isn't the most exhilarating game so far, I don't know what is!'  
  
It was the annual Quidditch taking place, and Severus tried his best to appear engaged. Frankly, he was bored. He only watched a game when it involved the Slytherins. Otherwise, he was quite tuned off. Besides, he knew the outcome of the game. 'And Gryffindor wins!' echoed in his head.  
  
'Are you dozing off?' a soft voice reached his ears.  
  
He spoke as though into the air, his eyes straight at the field. 'If you have watched Quidditch all your life, you will not find it special.'  
  
He could not see her of course. She was under that flimsy Invisibility Cloak. The fact that there was a supposed empty space beside him did not bother anyone who saw it. It was well known that the Head of Slytherin liked to keep away from overly enthusiastic crowds who might wave their arms and wallop him. Why could she not use a more sophisticated method? Like an invisibility spell or something.  
  
He could not tell how she was enjoying the game or where she was looking at. Somehow though, he felt that her gaze was presently upon him.  
  
'The other professors seem to like it very much.'  
  
Severus schooled his expression to one of nonchalance. 'It is a matter of taste then.'  
  
He heard her chuckle. Then, she was quiet.  
  
Adela had recovered sufficiently during the weekend to receive Albus' permission to gain access in Hogwarts' grounds. She was cautious. But he knew the times when she sneaked into his classes to see their lessons, when she would leave a daisy or a buttercup or any flower on his table when no one was looking. She was an imp. Having memorised the various passwords, she went stealthily round the castle and peeked into every room, leaving traces only those who knew of her presence could spot. Albus was delighted when she left him a bottle of Muggle gingerbeer she concocted with the help of the House-Elves in the kitchens. According to Minerva, she even scampered to the edges of the school grounds to visit Hagrid's hut during a Magical Creatures lesson. It was peculiar that she left the place uninjured.  
  
When he was convinced that the ongoing match was enrapturing her, he let himself frown. The incident at the Hospital Wing was never discussed between them and he dared not ask her whether he had imagined it. The night cloaking the scene, the half-remembered conversation and the need to prove to himself that she was really there had overcome him for a while as he had seized her hand to find it corporeal. That embarrassment he grimly planned to banish to the hazy depths of his memory. It made him. . . queasy with unanswered questions, questions he thought best buried. No good would come out of dwelling over them.  
  
He heard her clap as Potter executed a tricky somersault with his Firebolt, drowned out by other applause of varying degrees. His Slytherins, who were sitting in a nearby booth, jeered.  
  
'Show-off!' Draco sneered. Others followed.  
  
Severus sighed. He felt a headache threatening to storm within. He had been through the House rivalry in his youth. Sometimes, he wished he did not have to deal with it anymore, only it was stubbornly latched onto his duties as a teacher in Hogwarts. He needed a distraction.  
  
He saw Albus smiling mischievously at him. There was an almost diabolical twinkle in that man's eye, filling him with suspicion. Was Albus so omnipotent that he knew of his predicament?  
  
He scowled at Albus, serving to irritate him when the Headmaster grinned ever more brightly. The man had the audacity to wink at him!  
  
Severus gave up. He knew when he was defeated.  
  
He concentrated on the game in misery, groaning when Potter stood on his broomstick, waving the Snitch excitedly in his hand.  
  
'And Gryffindor wins!' Creevy's squeaky voice boomed.  
  
***  
  
Albus peered over the rim of his teacup. There were relatively few occasions when he had the leisure of having tea with his favourite people. This was not one of them.  
  
'You do see, Cornelius, our hands are rather full at this moment. We appreciate your sincere wish to contribute to the. . . organisation.' Albus twirled the saucer around his nimble fingers, 'But we do not require further assistance.' His tone was polite, as always, but final.  
  
Fudge was predictably quivering in his seat.  
  
'First,' he tried to keep his voice even, 'You reject an inquisitor to the school. Umbridge was indispensable and now look what's happened to her! Still visiting St. Mungo's everyday for medication!'  
  
'An unfortunate incident,' said Minerva without a trace of sincerity.  
  
'So I send some of the most highly respected and valued members of the Ministry to aid you. Then, one by one, they leave feeling themselves disregarded. These are my subordinates Dumbledore. To shut them out in your proceedings is to insult me.'  
  
Albus waved his hand good-naturedly, 'Come, don't let us argue over these trivial matters.'  
  
'Trivial! I assure you, they are nothing but important. The Ministry has the right to know what you've been up to.'  
  
'As your. . . subordinates have doubtlessly informed you, our school curriculum is the same as it's been for the past six centuries. Dear me, is it truly that long? Really Cornelius, we have done what we could to make our guests feel welcome, and we have given them whatever information needed as to what goes round in Hogwarts.' Albus gestured to the table where an exquisite set of tea-things was placed. 'More crumpets?'  
  
'No, thank you!' Fudge's patience wore thin, 'Consider myself paying a service to you Dumbledore when I come here. I could have asked you to meet me at my own office. Hence, I will not leave until I get my answers. What is your army doing with You-Know-Who?'  
  
'Oh, so that is what you wanted!' Albus exclaimed innocently, 'I was mistaken to think you had interests in the school's well-being.'  
  
Fudge's face flushed.  
  
'You may rest to know that our goals remain similar: to work against Voldemort.' Albus paused when the people in his office reacted as they were wont to do whenever Tom Riddle's acronym was mentioned, 'Hence, you do not have to worry about it.'  
  
'This is outrageous. Have you not said we should work together?'  
  
'I will work with you with pleasure Cornelius, if you will cooperate as well. As it is, you shall retain your own information and I see fit to keep mine.'  
  
'The Ministry is the one at a disadvantage. All our information is public, published in papers like the Daily Prophet.'  
  
'Is that so?' Albus rummaged through the papers of the past week, 'Oh dear, it appears they have left out the impressive news about the whereabouts of Bidmarck.'  
  
At that, Fudge's eyes bulged, to Minerva's and Severus' visible satisfaction.  
  
'How did. . .' he spurted angrily, 'How did you. . .'  
  
Albus said, 'Suffice to say we know. It seems you are not ready to place unconditional trust in us yet. Very well, I respect your decision.'  
  
Casting about for a red herring, Fudge pointed to the other two who were present. 'And what are they doing here? They are not necessary in this meeting of ours.' He especially viewed Severus with mingled loathing and disgust.  
  
Albus replied sternly, 'They are here at my request Cornelius. They work for me, and have every reason to be here.'  
  
Fudge sneered, spoiling the amicable façade he produced, 'And since they are here. . . I am told they were the ones who took the initiative to bring that Muggle to your premises.'  
  
'That's correct.'  
  
'Have you found out who she is? Have you Obliviated her and sent her back?'  
  
'She has returned home.' It was true. Adela had left that morning to set her uncle's and aunt's minds at ease with her safety.  
  
'Are you sure she won't remember anything?'  
  
Albus cleverly skirted the issue, 'Have some faith in Professor Flitwick's skills Cornelius.'  
  
Fudge brusquely stood up. Speaking haughtily, he said, 'Of course. I have absolute faith in you and your followers.' He nodded to Albus and barely acknowledged Minerva and Severus. 'Good day, Dumbledore.' He walked out of the room hurriedly.  
  
When they heard the steps fading away, Minerva observed, 'He's worried. There're rumours that all the Dementors have deserted. That means more prisoners will escape.'  
  
'We cannot help it. The Order is not large enough to secure Azkaban. Thank Merlin Voldemort does not have that kind of power and that the Death-Eaters are not numerous either.'  
  
'After the widespread search of Dark Wizards, and knowledge that the Dark Lord has indeed been resurrected, it's more difficult to recruit them.' Severus said.  
  
Albus shrugged, 'So much the better.' With Fudge gone, his moods lifted, 'Happily, as it is, Fudge did not touch any of our tea or crumpets. Tuck in, or I'll look ravenous. I'm afraid the tea's cold though.' Albus proceeded to do a warming spell.  
  
Minerva took her cup, 'So what was it that you wanted to see us about, before Fudge's unceremonious arrival?'  
  
'Simply an excuse to find company to share this sumptuous spread and also to tell you Miss Stanton should be at her village now.'  
  
Due to his watching for it, Albus spotted Severus fumble with his plate. The movement was infinitely minuscule, but it was sufficient to gladden him.  
  
Minerva said blithely, 'Oh she will be back.'  
  
Severus said simultaneously, 'You mean you weren't lying to Fudge about. . .' Then Minerva's words sank in. Albus watched, amused when Severus spun his head so fast that his neck cracked, 'She will be back?'  
  
'Yes.' Minerva reached out for the porcelain teapot. 'We wish her to. Why, don't you?'  
  
Severus was not a spy for nothing. He hid every emotion well. His tone was calculably careless. 'Well. There is no harm done but may I ask why you asked her to?'  
  
'Every help is appreciated, including those from unlikely sources.'  
  
'Do you at least suspect she may be the one in Trelawney's prophecy?'  
  
'Perhaps.'  
  
Severus nodded. 'It makes sense.'  
  
Albus and Minerva exchanged looks of glee when Severus busied himself with tea.  
  
'I should prepare for the next class. Thank you for tea Headmaster. Professor McGonagall.' Severus was always strangely formal when he was in Albus' office. It may be because of the entire group of past Headmasters present, even if in portraits. He swept out majestically.  
  
Albus spread his palm out, 'There.'  
  
'What?' Minerva pretended ignorance.  
  
'Severus did not behave like a lost puppy.'  
  
'He behaved abnormally. He barely contained his agitation when he heard she left, for his standards I mean. Then, bam! Don't laugh Albus. I learnt that adolescent word from Ginny Weaseley. It serves a purpose to emphasise my point. Anyway, bam! He was relieved when he learnt Adela's coming back.'  
  
'He did not wring his hands and his face did not drain of blood.'  
  
'An expression!'  
  
'He did not look devastated and weep.'  
  
'He was about to. I saved him in a rush.'  
  
'He did not cry her name out.'  
  
Minerva drew a bag of lemondrops out, 'Oh, all right you won the bet.'  
  
Albus promptly sucked one in content, 'You females think in the most dramatic ways.'  
  
***  
  
Severus was getting more than a confusing sense of déjà vu tonight. 'Butterflies in his stomach,' his grandfather called it.  
  
Speaking of butterflies. . .  
  
He continued looking at her still outstretched hand, inviting him to join her at the lake.  
  
'You're quiet,' he said to her.  
  
They had been walking the grounds for a few hours now. He heard the bells ring eleven. The moonlit night added to the fantastical quality of the occasion.  
  
He still did not know how to address her. 'Miss Stanton' felt too inappropriate, whereas 'Adela' felt too promiscuous. Hence, he simply kept to 'You'.  
  
She smiled. She always smiled. 'It's lovely here,' she said, 'When I was in the city, you couldn't see the stars, for the streetlights were too bright.'  
  
He smiled back, cursing himself within. He always lost his severity with her. 'Did you like the city?' There was a sardonic inflexion in his tone.  
  
He knew she knew he was mocking, but she ignored it. 'I love the city, though it's vastly different from home.'  
  
Severus cursed himself again. She had not forgotten how to deal with him, after all these years.  
  
He watched morosely as she sat by the lake. It would be so much wiser, so much easier if he could just hand her to Minerva's care. The girl fascinated and infuriated him. He could do without these embellishments in his already colourful life, albeit most being shades of black.  
  
The moonlight was really magical and strange tonight. It caused the forest and castle to fade into a blurry background and heightened the delicateness of the girl and outlined the thin cotton dress she was wearing.  
  
'You will catch pneumonia,' he chided.  
  
She looked at him, wide-eyed, 'I recall you telling me the first time we met that you didn't care if I entangled myself in the branches, so long as I wasn't in your path.'  
  
She was teasing him! The insolent chit.  
  
'I have to be answerable to Professor Dumbledore now.' Shrugging off his cloak, he placed it over her shoulders.  
  
'That explains it. Thank you. It's colder here than in the village.' It was the only reference she made to him about her flitting out of Hogwarts that day. 'Do sit down. My neck will ache if I continue looking up at you like this.'  
  
He tried to look as dignified as possible when he consented.  
  
'The lake is calm tonight,' she commented.  
  
'Has Miss Granger told you of our inhabitant in the lake?'  
  
'That, and the merpeople. We Muggles got it wrong there.'  
  
'I will choose to say some of the Muggles are more. flighty in their imagination.'  
  
'But they will never think it real,' she pointed out sadly.  
  
'Yes, the world of fact and fantasy must have a distinct line for your world, yet, they can be so caught up in it.'  
  
'All that is rich, wonderful and magical; and of course, all that is murky, horrible and gruesome,' Adela continued the trend if thought.  
  
'We play by the poles,' Severus smirked, 'Always seeking to explain our existence and the events that happen around us, to rationalise, to separate the supposed opposites to encompass everything in neat order, the yin and yang, black and white, good and evil.'  
  
'Until we are born such that our ancestor's beliefs are instilled in us, closely tied to instinct, but not to truth,' she looked up at the skies.  
  
'Have you ever wondered why, wondered why the night sky,  
  
Is always so dark and sinister?  
  
With a few clouds here and a few clouds there,  
  
And the moon, with the light it administers.  
  
Maybe it's the darkness in our souls that fills all hollows and holes,  
  
Darker than the darkest empty space.  
  
Or maybe it's just there to see, not to be pondered about by you and I,  
  
So let it simply rest in peace.'  
  
If he allowed himself to relax, he would have laughed. It was ridiculous that for someone who dreamt in the day, the girl possessed a sly insight to the human condition. Her clarity was a cleansing breeze blowing the spectres into nothingness and shrinking pettiness of disputes into the size it ought to be.  
  
Something filled him, something so rarely experienced by himself it took a considerable amount of time to identify it. Elation. It settled him and washed over him warmly. The feeling he had missed ever since meeting her.  
  
*She's my Esmeralda,* he finally accepted to himself. He plunged immediately into fury and bitterness, *What then? Am I her Frollo or Quasimodo?*  
  
He could not forget what he did to the witches who fell victim to the Death- Eaters. He used any means to draw out information from them. Truth potions, but if they were lacking. . . He had committed the foulest of crimes to get what he had wanted. He hated it, hated himself for doing them even though he had not lost his calm. He knew he could do it again.  
  
Now he feared his iron will unravelling in her presence.  
  
He feared for her.  
  
***  
  
Author's Note:  
  
"swirling clouds in violet haze, flaming flowers that brightly blaze, and morning fields of amber grain" are lyrics from Don McLean's song 'Vincent'.  
  
'I wish I could lay your arms down. . . I wish I could slay your demons' are lyrics from the episode 'Once More With Feeling' in 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'.  
  
Penatus is Latin for winged  
  
'Have you ever wondered why, wondered why the night sky,  
  
Is always so dark and sinister?  
  
With a few clouds here and a few clouds there,  
  
And the moon, with the light it administers.  
  
Maybe it's the darkness in our souls that fills all hollows and holes,  
  
Darker than the darkest empty space.  
  
Or maybe it's just there to see, not to be pondered about by you and I,  
  
So let it simply rest in peace.'  
  
The poem is by Charles Edward Jaggard. 


	9. Chapter 8

Few things help an individual more than to place responsibility upon him and to let him know that you trust him. ~ Booker T. Washington  
  
Chapter 8  
  
'Severus, I was rather surprised to get your message.'  
  
'As I was to receive yours, Lucius,' Severus drawled. 'Can it be that there is something the almighty head of the Malfoy family needs from a lowly professor?'  
  
'Don't prickle. We've done each other a service on numerous occasions old friend,' Lucius placed heavy emphasis on the last two words, a direct reminder of their school days, a rightful claim to a close relationship. He was a year older than Severus, and considerably more confident than the scrawny boy was. It was he who had protected him from further abuse by the Slytherins, if not the Gryffindors. Severus knew that he had that much to thank for that, and reprimanded himself. What debt he owed Lucius was paid in his years as a Death-Eater.  
  
Lucius led him to the drawing room and they were left alone after a House- Elf was summoned to provide them with Bordeaux and whisky.  
  
Lucius helped himself to the more potent alcohol. It did not escape Severus' notice too, that the man's collar was rumpled, something that was not customary to Lucius' normal behaviour. 'Tell me what has happened that my friend has requested to visit me in my own home?'  
  
'I should ask the same of you.' Severus said. 'You're not your tranquil self.'  
  
'Ever the dry observer. Drink?'  
  
'Yes. Let's shed the veil of pretense and have something even stronger. I'll have a brandy, I correct myself, several rounds of brandy. It appears we are going to have a long discussion.'  
  
They settled in front of the fireplace. Lucius chuckled.  
  
'Do you remember,' Lucius reminisced, 'how we crept out of the Slytherin quarters in the middle of the night and rampaged the grounds, and planned all sorts of mischief? All that control of our lives. The school was the world to conquer without fear or regret. Those were the days.'  
  
Severus did remember. 'I didn't know you were capable of being maudlin.'  
  
'Neither did I, but times change and we change with it.'  
  
This was unlike Lucius. 'Are you someone who's attacked the real Lucius and drunk some Polyjuice potion? If so, you better do your homework properly next time. Monsieur Lucius Malfoy never allows anything, including time, to control him. It's the other way around.'  
  
'Do stop vexing me Severus. I've just returned from the Dark Lord.' Lucius made a sound of disgust, 'Are we so crushed by his thumb that we cannot say his name without us reacting?'  
  
Severus silently agreed. 'Well, it explains your present state.'  
  
'You don't have to rub it in.' Lucius turned the glass in his hand before swallowing the brandy in one gulp. 'The matter then.' He placed the glass on the table, 'Did you see the books he took from Bidmarck?'  
  
'So he showed them to you as well. He told me about the properties and why he could not use them. That was a week ago.'  
  
'He brought a captured Mudblood and me to the area. He used the boy to open and read the books, for want of a better word. I'm told they contain no written language.'  
  
'The results?' Severus prompted.  
  
'Oh, death at the end of course. But before that,' he paused at the memory. Severus saw the contentment in his eyes as his expression softened, 'Ah before that. That was interesting. The aura exuding from the books attacked him. You could see the manipulation of the air. Swift and sharp as swords. It stabbed his body and came out again in numerous fine golden rays, slicing him from within. I almost believed they could cut through me too, but here I am. Anyway, it seems his magical powers were destroyed. He slipped into catatonia and died soon after. I could relive the moment again. It was beautiful.'  
  
Severus ignored the remark. 'Did he ask you to solve the problem?'  
  
'He certainly displayed a convincing scene to move me into trying.'  
  
'Then our aims for meeting each other coincide.'  
  
'I spent the day thinking. Post hoc, ergo propter hoc, isn't it? It's the destruction of his magical powers, and therefore the breakdown of the physical and mental self. Much as it is to my distaste, we can use a Muggle as the vessel. The probability of him not being killed is high.'  
  
'I've come to that conclusion myself. Yet there is a chip in our diamond. The Dark Lord is not stupid. It's a simple solution that he can come up with himself. Why doesn't he do it?'  
  
'How do I know? The Dark Lord's crazy to think of all variations. That paranoia of his.'  
  
'Actually, it may be valid in this instance. I did some research, and your account did not contradict my suspicions. I found that in theory, when the aura enters a body, it not only absorbs the magical powers, it reacts with and transforms the body.'  
  
'In what way?'  
  
Severus frowned into his glass, 'This is unprecedented Lucius. For all our expertise, we wouldn't know. I may conjecture that there is a possibility that the aura will be imparted to the Muggle, bestowing on him or her what we wizards cannot have. Wild magic. Whether it will be temporary or permanent is open for speculation. Besides, the books are power, aren't they? The Muggle can break out of whatever influence he or she is kept under and harness the aura to the Dark Lord's detriment, and he will surely avoid it at all costs.'  
  
'Very enlightening. He will not want someone more powerful than he is. We are back to where we started. Fuck it,' Lucius cursed in a rare moment of confession, 'I wish he was never born.'  
  
'Our sentiments are the same.'  
  
'If for different reasons. Faithful as I am, I hate to cringe and maintain a servile attitude. And you. . .' He threw a dubious look at Severus, which made him frown.  
  
'What?'  
  
'Don't think I don't know where your loyalties lie. Dumbledore'd never hire you if he didn't trust you. You've been teaching for what, fifteen years? It is not easy to hide a Dark Mark living constantly with them.'  
  
'No, it isn't.' Severus was surprised that he was not feeling more than surprised. He had come asking for help, yet he found himself in a talk with Lucius, the first sincere one since. Lucius had graduated. It was far from friendly, but it was without falsehood. It belatedly occurred to him that if there were anyone who understood him among the Death-Eaters, it could only be Lucius, shrewd and worldly wise, though not in the Albus Dumbledore sense.  
  
Curious then that he felt no inclination to kill Lucius on the spot. He should. Lucius could easily expose him.  
  
'The Dark Lord is too blind and vain to suspect you seriously. Your secret's safe with me. It is in my interests. I need all the allies I can get, even if we work on comparably different terms.' This was also Lucius' first admission that for the present, his goal was the same as Severus'.  
  
'What happens if the Dark Lord falls?' Severus threaded the thin line between confession and deception.  
  
'I will not fall with him.'  
  
'What then?'  
  
'I will be as I was when he was first destroyed. In control of my own life.'  
  
'Persecuting Muggleborns, campaigning for the purification of our world and unleashing the Dark Arts. Killing Potter. Very similar to the Dark Lord's own aspirations I might add.'  
  
'Without the maniacal desire to rule the entire world. I know my place.'  
  
'This humbleness from you?'  
  
'Oh no,' Lucius gave an audible hoot. 'Humanity suits me. Death, what is death anyway? I don't wish for immortality. The pleasures of the flesh and the pain inflicted on our inferior counterparts are sufficient. It is a sight to behold when they convulse at your feet and scream sweeter than an angel's call. After all, do angels exist in the first place? Then will I see the future I work for, the day when the wizarding world shall rise in solidarity and pure splendour, showing our identity to every Muggle and holding our heads high and proud. Who is to say this ambition is not as noble as the one you are fighting for? Who's to say I am wrong and you are right? It is a matter of different opinion.'  
  
How many times did Severus hear this, if not in rich detail? It disturbed him to hear this madman debate as if it were the most logical argument in the world. He gave a ghost of a smile, 'I almost began to think you human at the start.'  
  
'Am I not? Or do you think you have a greater claim of being more human than I am?' Severus froze. Lucius smiled, almost compassionately, unmistakably intimately, 'Severus, Severus, how I miss you. In your heyday, you were almost on par with me in ruthlessness. We were the only ones who knew how these things should be done elegantly, not vulgarly. One cannot accuse me of not being a man of passions. I am faithful to the Dark Lord for the promise of more. experiences. However, you did your tasks with no sentiment. Even with the women naked and squirming beneath you. So detached, so unemotional. Severus. I wonder sometimes about that tedious conscience of yours that made you turn and work for them. I wouldn't have expected it. In fact, I am still incredulous. However, after the Dark Lord's resurrection, I have watched you and to my disheartenment, accepted your decision to be final and genuine. I applaud your bravery, even as I despair your foolishness. Because now, you stand on the brink of the abyss. Alone. Neither here nor there. Stranded between the two poles of this world. You threw away everything we gave you when you went to Dumbledore. Do you believe one can simply dabble in the Dark Arts and consort with true- hearted Death-Eaters and leave unscathed, without being tempted or allured by us? Do you believe you are capable of understanding what drives the good- hearted? Why those who are in the Light have not wavered as you have? You sink not into darkness so the Dark despises you. You hunger for the Light but it does not suit you. Poor Severus, too philosophical for our world and too cold for their world. Tell me, old friend, where do you belong?'  
  
Severus stared. He wanted to strangle Lucius for his own callousness, wanted to deny every syllable Lucius uttered about the essence of his very character. He could not, for being as ever brutally honest with himself, he knew Lucius was right.  
  
Lucius stirred languidly from his seat. 'Enough. We've taken much precious time. It is agreed. We help each other.'  
  
'Until. . .'  
  
'Until He is vanquished.' The capital letter H resonated in Lucius' smooth voice.  
  
'Then we return to our position. You will do as you will and I. I will do what I deem necessary to stop you.' It hurt him to say it. Some obscure part of him still cried out childishly for this friendship.  
  
Lucius gracefully extended a hand, confident that Severus would take it.  
  
He did, but let go immediately.  
  
'I will contact you when I've found something,' Severus said.  
  
'May our partnership succeed. Just like old times, isn't it, with us playing games to delude the authority?'  
  
Just like old times indeed. Only, with the palpable threat of death and not detention hovering over them always.  
  
***  
  
'I'm home aunt!' Adela hung her keys in the box beside the door and kissed Aunt Martha's cheek, 'Surprised I came back a day earlier than what I said?'  
  
Her aunt smiled and smoothed her windblown hair.  
  
It was the second weekend after her first entrance into the wizarding world. Adela wondered if it would be a trend of her coming home every weekend until the struggle for victory in the magical circles was over. All things considered, she hoped not. Even though it was terribly fascinating, the war was a rather drawn out affair that had begun taking its toil on the people involved.  
  
Not that she could tell anyone about it. Uncle Samuel was satisfied when she had told them that the matter was closed despite being so insistent before. For him, Adela was sensible again. It saddened her. Now, all her family knew was that she was hired by a nearby village to teach in its school temporarily.  
  
Aunt Martha spoke to her as she ushered her to the kitchen, 'There's a greater surprise for you.'  
  
Adela walked in and was immediately pounced on.  
  
'Bon soir, mon petite fille!' Lindsay announced.  
  
'Lindsay!' Adela responded in kind as she returned the bear hug, 'Ouch, ribcage and spine!'  
  
Lindsay grinned and her eyes danced with mischief, 'Isn't it a lark? We were heading back to England when Henry said, "Why not pop by Adela's what's-it's-name village as a final touring destination for the weekend?" So we came, and imagine our frustration when we heard you weren't home!'  
  
It was when Adela steadied herself that she spotted Henry sitting at the table, looking smugly pleased with himself.  
  
He waved a mug and a plate with crumbs of what appeared to be apple pie and said, 'Hello there Adela. Your aunt's a gracious hostess. She's even invited us to stay for the weekend whilst you're here.'  
  
'Hello Henry. Did you two sit patiently for me?' Adela laughed, 'Did you wait long?'  
  
'No, we went to explore the village. It's safe to say you have to be our guide. We'll have picnics and whatnots.'  
  
'You've mapped out my plans for me.' Adela raised her eyebrows.  
  
'Irrevocable plans.' Lindsay huffed, 'I must punish you for not telling me what you've been up to. Even your folks aren't entirely clear.'  
  
'Erm. . .' Adela was saved by her aunt who came to say Uncle Samuel had returned from his rounds and dinner was ready. It gave her time to construct what she would say to them.  
  
Dinner was a rowdy affair. Uncle Samuel and Henry hit off and being the only men, launched into a discussion ranging from beer to horses. Uncle Samuel was especially delighted to find out how knowledgeable and down-to- earth Henry was. He forgave Henry for being a city-boy and told him so. He went as far as to call Henry an honest salt of the earth, hence giving what to him was the best praise in the world. Henry laughed sportingly.  
  
Meanwhile, Lindsay had settled to describe the tale about their adventures to Aunt Martha and Adela, which was punctuated with the word, 'cool!'.  
  
'You enjoyed it very much,' Aunt Martha smiled at the girl's enthusiasm.  
  
'How can you tell?'  
  
'Although your tone was very subtle, we managed to pick it up,' said Adela dryly.  
  
Lindsay gave a lopsided smile. She said sheepishly, 'Too eager, huh?'  
  
'Yes, and you've distinctly picked up a few habits from there as well. Those slang and mannerisms and that accent need practice if you want to convince other people of your "Canadian" background.'  
  
'It's called culture shock. Ah,' observed Lindsay resignedly, 'I'll revert to being a good old Brit soon enough.' Dinner finished with the five sipping honeyed wine and chatting genially. The two young women helped to clear up. 'You show her Adela. Lindsay didn't bother to clean the hotel room when we were travelling. Lazy, that girl. Oy, Lindsay dove, learn a few useful skills from the two lovely ladies in order to become a nice, supportive wife in the house. When we're married tomorrow. . .'  
  
Adela nearly dropped her plate.  
  
'Married? Tomorrow?'  
  
'Yes. In case you've left home for so long, let me remind you that there is a very quaint church two streets down from here. Lindsay and I agreed that it was a worthy place to wed.'  
  
Adela narrowed her eyes and said accusingly, 'You. Two. Are. Getting. Married.'  
  
'Don't have to say it so many times Adela. We hear you.'  
  
'You didn't tell me before in your mails.'  
  
'It was on the spur of moment!' Henry protested. 'I looked at that church and thought, "Damn, that's a heavenly place for a heavenly occasion, so I proposed to,' he grabbed Lindsay and made her sit on his lap, 'this woman.'  
  
'What about your families?'  
  
'We'll have another official wedding with them and all the distant relatives. Don't worry, we've informed them. They're waiting for us back home with stern frowns and clucking tongues.' Lindsay supplied.  
  
'Oh good.' Adela was calmer now. Shaking her head philosophically, she continued in humour, 'Ah, well, it's your business, what do I care? So long as you two are happy. Just don't go hippie and take off to goodness knows where.'  
  
'Don't worry. We've planned about house, work, duties, blah blah.' Lindsay assured her.  
  
'In under a day? I doubt it. But like I said, it's your business.'  
  
'You'll get priggish if you keep talking like that.' Henry grinned.  
  
That night found the three friends planning the program in the unused- turned-guest room until they were satisfied.  
  
'At last!' Lindsay declared. 'We weren't too loud, were we Adela? Did we disturb your folks?'  
  
'I daresay they can't hear us. Their room's at the other end of the house.'  
  
'Great. So we can proceed with our interrogation. Update us with what you've been doing.' Henry chimed in.  
  
Adela told them the condensed version of the essential truth, that she was helping in a boarding school. She scooted past the details and instead focussed more on the interesting inhabitants for whom she had changed some of the more unique names. Lindsay and Henry were entertained tremendously.  
  
'I wish I could give those Watson twins a hand in their games. They're good fun.' Henry proclaimed.  
  
'I thought you'd approve.' Adela said. Although Fred and George Weaseley no longer studied in Hogwarts, they visited it regularly, now they were old enough in Mrs. Weaseley's eyes to help the Order. As a result of being in a position where working in a joke shop caused no one to treat them seriously, Fred and George were able to eavesdrop on several conversations among officials and students who came shopping. Besides, going back to Hogwarts gave them the chance to promote their latest products, doing it by stealth to avoid Mr. Filch and his cat.  
  
'That Harry Potter seems like a really friendly boy. Too bad he's young.'  
  
Henry elbowed Lindsay and rattled in a fake American twang, 'Regretting your impulse to marry me now, is it? Rushing off to see another? Are you pulling a Runaway Bride on me?'  
  
Lindsay ignore his tirade, 'Have you any photos to show us?'  
  
As a matter of fact Adela did, photographs courtesy of Harry's Muggle camera. She showed them the students, pointing out who each of them was.  
  
Henry got his own back at Lindsay. He smirked, 'Miss Granger's certainly a prize catch.'  
  
'I didn't know you were a pedophile,' Lindsay snorted. She handed the photos back to Adela. 'They're lovely. Let's see the staff.'  
  
Adela missed the anticipation in Lindsay's expression as she took the pictures out and floundered over an explanation for the staff's unusual dressing. 'They're taken in Halloween.' *And taken without they being aware of it* Adela thought a little embarrassed. She remembered the apoplectic reaction from Professor Trelawney when she had caught Ron snapping a picture of her, hence interrupting all sorts of cosmos and mystics. Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore had interceded.  
  
'Oh!' Lindsay cried, 'They've marvellous costumes Adela! Exquisite! They must be expensive, seeing how they must be tailor-made using the best materials.'  
  
Henry was impressed. 'I like the old man's. The headmaster I suppose? He looks ancient. The other staff aren't on the right side of fifty either. I didn't know they allow people that old to work.'  
  
'They like what they do.'  
  
'Why do the men have such long beards?' Lindsay complained.  
  
'Erm. . .'  
  
'This one has more sense.' Lindsay pointed at one who stood from the sea of rich, bright colours as he was robed in black. No beard there. Who's he?'  
  
'Professor Holmes.'  
  
Lindsay scrutinised him critically. 'I thought so.'  
  
'What?'  
  
'You did say he's the youngest faculty member.' Lindsay went on to look at the rest of the photographs.  
  
'Oh, right,' but Adela was puzzled at the secret satisfaction she saw in her friend's face.  
  
After telling them more, they bid each other goodnight and she left them for her room.  
  
***  
  
Severus continued to stare at the letter in his hand. He used the other hand to check his jaw and confirmed that he was not gaping.  
  
'Defence Against the Dark Arts? What happened to Professor er. . .' He could not recall the name.  
  
'Ah, yes, poor man, he was attacked by a Boggart by surprise at the staff room. Sent in his resignation letter straightaway. I wonder if it's the same Boggart that Remus found three years ago,' Albus said.  
  
Severus generously said nothing about it. That man must be an incompetent idiot to not be able to tackle a Boggart. Sitting in the staff room with the Headmaster, he mulled over this unexpected duty.  
  
'Have you not advertised in the papers?'  
  
'No one's replying to our notice, even with the unemployment rate increasing. You know, I think even someone as practical as Minerva is prepared to declare the position jinxed. I myself am hard put not to reject this superstition.'  
  
'Ah. . . that explains my sudden acquiring of the post. You are all eager to get rid of me in a legitimate way.'  
  
'You're not taking on the position permanently Severus. You're teaching till the end of the term before Christmas. It's my earnest hope that we have another professor by then. If not, I shall have to take drastic action. I may even teach it myself. You remain our Potions Master.'  
  
'Oh.' Severus was a little crestfallen.  
  
'Why do you want the DADA position so much?'  
  
'You know.'  
  
'I want to hear it from your lips.'  
  
Severus prepared himself for a long chat. 'When you approached me after. . . the Dark Lord first disappeared, you gave me a choice in positions. I suggested the DADA. Do you remember what you told me? You said you didn't want me to teach it, for fear that I'd surrender to the seduction of the Dark Arts.'  
  
'I didn't decorate it with such ornate words Severus.'  
  
Severus shrugged, 'The gist. I told you I was strong enough, that I had not failed you ever since I turned, that it was unlikely I'd be molding impressionable minds to lure them into the trap I once fell into. I wanted the DADA precisely to show them the real world and not to be easily enticed by what the Dark offered. Nothing but lies. In retrospect, I was overly anxious to prove myself then. I was willing to look over my weaknesses. I had no experience with children and was not then able to show whether I could become a successful teacher in the first place. You did right.'  
  
'You always remember the gloomy parts. What about mine telling you that I wanted you to stay from the Dark Arts because they have been a part of you for your whole life that you did not know what it was like without it? I wanted you to be free of it, of that detestable aspect that nearly destroyed you.'  
  
'I kept silent at the time. I did weigh your words and my thoughts carefully Albus. I was ready to admit that I should at least try living without Dark Magic. Not that I had any fight in me to dispute with you much. I remember thinking I would have accepted Divination just because you said it was to be so.'  
  
'Glad I gave you Potions instead?'  
  
'Oh yes, very.'  
  
'You are good at what you do. Your methods are unorthodox and somewhat frowned upon. . .'  
  
'Somewhat?'  
  
'At least you manage to impart the required skills and knowledge to them.'  
  
'Longbottom was nearly my undoing in that untarnished record of a hundred percent passes every year for O.W.Ls.'  
  
Albus smiled. 'Your record is a clean slate today.'  
  
'What are you trying to tell me Albus?'  
  
Albus hesitated. Severus could see he was framing words in his mind.  
  
'When you returned from Mr. Malfoy, you hid something from me about the visit. Whatever he told you, understand he does not know you fully.'  
  
'Yes?' Severus enquired softly. It was two days from the visit. With no social calls to attend to during the weekend (he did not accompany Adela too for she was at home), it gave him ample time to think of what Lucius had said.  
  
He did not lie to Weaseley when he said he believed he was doing the right thing. In that respect he was the same as Dumbledore. What disturbed him was who he was, what his own inclinations were. He chose to do what was right, but given a free rein, would his inner nature do the same? He did believe in the work he did for the Dark Lord once too. So where did his true instinct lie? To protect, or to maim?  
  
In that space that lingered, Severus found himself telling Albus everything.  
  
The older wizard considered this, 'Mr. Malfoy was never your friend Severus. As to your worries, so far as I can see, I've told you my sentiments. This opportunity of giving you the DADA position comes timely indeed.'  
  
Severus looked at him quizzically, before appreciating what he meant.  
  
'Thank you Albus,' said he a little hoarsely. He conjured a glass of water to drink, and give him a moment's relief to contemplate his situation, this time calmly.  
  
Was he also as cold as Lucius accused him of? Yes, and no. He had feelings, but did not regard the emotion as importantly as many did. More to the point, in times of crises, he had no tolerance for hysteria. He concentrated on what should be done and incisive reason had priority over any feeling coursing through him. He possessed an iron grip stronger than Albus in that way. Albus let his affection for Harry sway his decisions for not telling the boy the truth initially. He would sooner prepare the boy for the harsh reality, but then, he was not as fond of Harry as Albus. He thought of his initial shock at the discovery of Potter's childhood, the uncomfortable affinity he found between them. Perhaps it was arrogant on his part to think he knew better than Potter what reality was. At least he had never been in the eye of the all-too-fickle press during his youth. Yes, Potter had matured since his fifth year. He would handle his burden well.  
  
What of Adela then? Surely he could and would kill her if it meant saving the world. Or would he? Forcing himself to think, he realised he was not as sure now as he seemed to be before. He had not yet encountered an incident like this. It was only when something happened did a person know whether he was a hero or a coward, a ruthless soul or a selfish beast. If fate forced him to sacrifice Adela, he realised that unlike the previous bloods staining his hands, he could not go on living with hers on his. He would leave the world in misery and guilt while everyone celebrated. He would join her in death, if not in life. Since his acknowledged feelings for her, he had decided not to tell her about it. A treacherous idea wove in his mind. What if he took that step?  
  
Again he confided in Albus.  
  
Albus smiled, 'I was worried you'd not see what your own feelings were.'  
  
'Afraid my heart was frozen so long it wouldn't melt?' Severus asked self- mockingly.  
  
'Minerva thinks it thawed wonderfully fast.'  
  
Severus choked on his own saliva, which was no mean feat. He was used to having Albus know him inside out, but the Headmistress?  
  
'She knows?'  
  
'Women are very perceptive to this sort of thing, so she tells me.'  
  
'Is it obvious?' Severus panicked.  
  
'For someone who's known you practically all your life.'  
  
'Albus, this is no laughing matter.' Severus glared at the man opposite him, wiping away tears of merriment.  
  
'No,' Albus sobered, 'It is serious. Adela won't know your feelings lest you tell her. She's too blithely unaware about these subtle currents.'  
  
'My dear sir! You can't ask me to tell her. You're joking!' Seveus amended, 'This is not the time.'  
  
'When will it be?'  
  
Probably infinity. 'I hardly know her. She knows little of me.'  
  
'That's cheerful.' Albus huffed. 'I won't ask you to tell her. I ask you to try to take a leap of faith. You've been locked inside yourself too long. You need to step out to make it work. For your sake and hers. You need to see that Mr. Malfoy is wrong in his assessment of you. By Merlin, you possess a heart Severus. Your very actions speak for themselves. Do you think I am clueless of your affection for me, conceited as it sounds, for the staff and your fierce protective streak towards the children? It is what makes you as much as your mind, that which you value. You've spent your years fighting to rise above the ordinary restrictions of being human, to stop yourself from interaction that may bring joy, but pain as well. You've done more than I have ever accomplished. But the more one struggles against the drag of humanity, the harder it is to return. And one always goes back in this life. You are cold only because you think you must retain your collected intellectual attitude. You flirt with the Light, standing at the side fearing to come closer. Embrace it Severus. It won't consume but free you. It sears, but also strengthens you. I've told Harry that he can defeat Voldemort with the power that Tom Riddle does not have. Love. It is difficult to be human. Sometimes, you're so weary you wish it leaves you in hollow peace. But you are not doing this on your own, not back when your family, your peers, your tutors and I have failed you. You'll have me at the very least supporting, and if you allow, guiding you.'  
  
These last words were almost a plea. Severus was distressed.  
  
For a flitting moment, he thought of laughing, loud and hard.  
  
Yet, this was what was happening. He averted his eyes to the fire, flickering mercilessly, burning everything it touched until what was left were traces of ashes. . .  
  
'I'm not ready for it Albus. If I'm aright, she isn't either. This connection between us is still fragile.'  
  
'It is not for me to pressurise you. Give each other time. It will be worthwhile.'  
  
Severus rolled his eyes as a form of rebellion.  
  
Typical of Albus to give the impression he knew everything.  
  
***  
  
'Don't chase after the butterflies!' Lindsay shouted after Henry.  
  
Who did not heed her and disappeared into the woods.  
  
The excursion on the hills was positive thus far. Adela had never picnicked with any friends here before.  
  
Lindsay piled her plate with apple strudel. 'Umm, this serves my purpose. I've been meaning to talk to you.'  
  
Adela raised her head to face Lindsay's rare serious visage.  
  
'That school, I checked it out. It doesn't exist in that village.'  
  
Adela was stunned, 'How. . . Why did you check it out?'  
  
'I was worried because you were plainly fibbing on the spot regarding the school.'  
  
Adela spied Henry moving among the trees, 'Does Henry know?'  
  
'Yes. Maybe that's why he's creating this opening for us. Are you in trouble?  
  
'No, yes, no. Oh, you won't believe what I know.'  
  
'Try me. And if I think you're insane, wipe the memory of what you said out of my head.'  
  
Adela's face paled. 'Don't say that. The violation of the mind is nothing to play at,' she whispered angrily.  
  
Lindsay was understandably shocked at her reaction. She spoke gently, 'Tell me Adela.'  
  
Adela desperately wanted to.  
  
'This isn't easy. Let's start with what's equally tough but less damaging. Have you met Professor Holmes before?' Adela gave a start before realising who Lindsay meant. 'Yes.' She revealed how she and Severus had met.  
  
Lindsay nodded, 'Tall, dark, brooding and mysterious. Do these words sound familiar together?'  
  
Adela kept quiet.  
  
'Oh, come on! There's something between you two. From what you told me, he's not an accessible man, mean tongue, nasty past that I have a gut feeling he has, but he gets on fine with you. Look, I may be jumping the gun about him, you should introduce us, but it's obvious that you have a thing for him.'  
  
It took a while for Adela to dissect the American lingo. Her face flushed.  
  
'Unlike what you think, I've been aware of my feelings ever since I saw him again. Sometimes I wish I didn't. We're from different worlds.'  
  
'What, is his family royal?' Lindsay asked sarcastically. 'Or is he worried about the age thing?'  
  
'No, just different worlds. We can't. . .'  
  
'My God, is he from the underworld? Did you get messed in some criminal organisation? He wants you out right? The rest are forcing you in.'  
  
'Lindsay, please. I may have lied about who these people are and about the school, but do you think I'd paint criminals in a benevolent manner?'  
  
Lindsay could not hide her relief, 'That's one horrible theory down the drain. So what is it?'  
  
'It's not my secret. A whole lot of people will get implicated. You and Henry will be too.'  
  
Lindsay frankly stared. Adela looked straight back into her eyes. Finally, Lindsay gave in.  
  
'All right. Are you in danger?'  
  
'Possibly.'  
  
'Do you need our help?'  
  
'No.'  
  
'If you do, you will tell me, won't you?'  
  
'Yes.' Adela said gratefully. Lindsay trusted her enough to not dig the secret out of her.  
  
'I still don't like this you know. But to take a leaf out of your page, it's your business. Just be careful.'  
  
'Thanks.' Adela felt that she owed an explanation. 'Lindsay, you've got to understand. My uncle didn't believe me when the evidence was in his face. This thing, it needs considerable time to absorb. It's not that I don't want to. . .'  
  
'Shush. You're ahead of yourself. It's fine.'  
  
'It's good that I didn't lose you there.'  
  
'Hey!' Lindsay said, 'Do you think I'm so petty and unreasonable?'  
  
Adela smiled in bafflement, 'Marriage has a queer effect on you. It's made you all solemnly wise.'  
  
Lindsay looked even more offended, 'Worse and worse.'  
  
'It's not a bad thing. I like it.'  
  
'We can't have that. You're supposed to be the mature one, and me, I'm the airhead.'  
  
'You were never that Lindsay.'  
  
'Gratified. Airhead is always linked to bitch.'  
  
Adela sprawled herself onto the grass and Lindsay followed suit. They lay side by side for a drowsily long time. Winter was fast approaching. The trees were bare and the birds were missing. Even the clouds glided across the skies lazily. It would be a long time before they met on the hills once more.  
  
Adela murmured happily, 'It's good that you know. Pretending in front of everyone has been tiring.'  
  
Lindsay muttered back, 'Remember your promise.'  
  
***  
  
Author's note:  
  
Bon soir, mon petite fille: Good evening, my little girl.  
  
Holmes and Watson, put together, are in effect Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, the Great Detective and his Boswell, creations of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I always thought Holmes and Snape have much in common. But I guess the twins and Snape won't like being lumped together if they know about the name connection.  
  
Post hoc, ergo propter hoc: Latin for 'after it, therefore because of it'. 


	10. Chapter 9

He who is only wise lives a sad life. ~ Voltaire  
  
Chapter 9  
  
'Welcome back.' Severus said stiffly. He opened the gates at the edges of the Hogwarts grounds, away from the Dark Forest and stood aside. He heard the faint splatter of mud as a figure walked through.  
  
'Hello. Is there anyone else around?' Adela spoke from under the Invisibility Cloak.  
  
'No one, as far as I can detect.' Severus looked down to find the tips of her shoes protruding out. He grimaced and said irritably, 'Here.' He cast an Invisibility spell on her. 'You can take off that thing now.'  
  
'Thank you.' Adela shed the cloak, leaving her visible only to Severus as he was the caster. 'It was getting cumbersome. I'll have to return it to Harry.'  
  
If Severus were not agitated, he would try to surmise why his emotions appeared to be reflected in her entire countenance as well. That, and she was not looking up at him, although, reflexively, he was doing his utmost to avoid meeting her in the eye too. As it was, he registered the fact, but not the implication.  
  
They crossed the fields in meditative silence, their heads bowed to shield their faces from the slight drizzle that pitter-pattered down rhythmically. This was soon to turn to snow as genial autumn yielded to freezing winter. Severus wondered if the silence was mutual. What was it that Albus described as the sound of silence between two people? Familiarity.  
  
Except, that even in his limited experience, Severus understood companionship to be comfortable, involving a certain amount of loosening of facial muscles and releasing of tight grips of fists. Sometimes casual banter. One could slice through the building tension between them. It had to be tangible now. If he reached out toward his right side, he believed he could touch a wall.  
  
It was probably his flight of fancy due to overwrought sensory systems. *That was it,* he thought, *Sentimental claptrap. Nothing but chemicals reacting in the body.* It was the first time he felt nervous in her presence and he was not enjoying it. Why the hell was she not chattering like mad?  
  
He could cope with silence, he could live with it, but this suspense was insufferable.  
  
Severus broke it.  
  
'How was the weekend? Did your relatives ask you too many difficult questions?'  
  
Out of the corner of his retina, he saw her jump a little. She could not restrain herself and blurted out, 'Did you just make small talk to me?'  
  
Severus swore under his breath, 'I need to confirm that your family's not suspicious.'  
  
'Sometimes, friends are more perceptive than relatives.' Adela sighed and told him about her two university students who had unexpectedly swooped down on her at her home.  
  
'In a way,' she mused, 'It was nice to have them there. Don't think this negatively please, but it was an absolute rush of relief to know that they know, and that they are. . . always there.'  
  
Severus decided against lashing out at her for her indiscretion. Her attempts to resist her friend's plea of telling them more were admirable. It would have been easy to make a slip. Furthermore, he thought of Albus when she mentioned the value of trust and support. Well, it explained why she was quiet. She was afraid her friends would be swallowed into this charade as she was.  
  
'We will leave it, unless events conspire to thwart our best intentions.'  
  
The intensity of joy directed at him was disconcerting. He valiantly suppressed the urge to draw her into his tight grasp when she relaxed into a tentative smile.  
  
They reached the steps heading toward the Gryffindor tower.  
  
'I'll ask Hermione to do a Finite Incantantum on me when I see her. You have a leaf in your hair.' Adela informed matter-of-factly and proceeded to tiptoe and pluck it out. Severus caught the wisp of fresh rain and her recognisable scent of mint and evergreen when she stood closer to him. Like the hills and woods she grew in.  
  
Adela sped up the stairs, leaving Severus to stare after her shadow.  
  
***  
  
Harry groaned against the pain flaring through his scar. Voldemort was angry.  
  
The tingles he had felt during the summer holidays and the beginning of school were absent for a while now. In place was a series of pain shooting forth. Paradoxically, it calmed him. Pleasure was too alien a feeling coming from Voldemort. Pain, pain was excruciating, but well-trodden territory. Pain was good.  
  
Since his Occlumency lessons were abruptly ended by Snape at the end of the fifth year, there was no discussion of them being continued. He wondered if he had the courage to ask Snape to resume them.  
  
*Tell me why you are in Gryffindor.* Harry scorned at himself.  
  
His connection with Voldemort was becoming not only undesirable, but also dangerous. He had learnt it the wretched way when he stubbornly refused to heed Snape's advice, dismissing everyone's persuasion as exaggeration. He did not want to believe he was the weak link within Hogwarts that could endanger Dumbledore and the Order. Put it bluntly, he had behaved an asshole.  
  
His mind resolute, Harry boldly walked to Snape's office when everyone was resting in the Common room.  
  
He was undaunted when he rapped the door loudly. He even greeted the Bloody Baron heartily, causing the ghost of Slytherin House to circle him furtively a couple of times before leaving him to be.  
  
When Harry lingered outside for several seconds without hearing Snape's command to enter, his confidence still did not waver. Pushing the door to reveal a slit, he looked in to find the room empty. As there were no wards guarding the office, Harry assumed there was no article of importance inside. Thus, he stepped in and took a seat in a corner, waiting for Snape with composure.  
  
When Snape came in, Harry was not that sure anymore.  
  
The professor did not notice him initially. Snape, (Snape?), radiated the air of someone petrified, in a very repressed sort of way. Harry always thought Snape as alert, with malevolent eyes darting everywhere to watch for troublemakers, but possessing none of the attitude that one would describe as strained. The person before him was positively rigid. More terrifying, his whole being showed one to be completely lost. His eyes, which usually glittered with sharpness, were dazed. Harry was able to empathise with that, even if he may not know the reason behind Snape's manner. How many times had he felt the world spinning out of control during his last year, when he faced the wild accusations of press and public, and the loss of innocence?  
  
Harry shook his head. Comrade-in-arms, with Snape? The sixth year was increasingly baffling. The Christmas holidays were going to be interesting, to say the least.  
  
He stood up respectfully, knowing Snape would not excuse a student who appeared laid-back in a chair on top of what he considered as barging into his office without permission.  
  
'Professor?'  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows when it took another minute for his voice to penetrate Snape's ears. Astonishing. His presence almost always caused Snape to instantly trample him under his feet. He rubbed his scar at the uncharitable thought. Snape only did that when students were around to project the perfect image of a spiteful and loathsome person. Old impressions died hard. They interfered with his more in-depth understanding of Snape sometimes.  
  
He snapped back to attention when Snape finally scowled uglily and faced his direction.  
  
'What now Potter?'  
  
Astonishing again. Snape did not lavish him with those flattering observations of him who disregarded authority and disturbing him unnecessarily.  
  
It gave him more reluctance to state his purpose for being there than outright rejection.  
  
'Er. . . well, it can wait. You look preoccupied at the moment.'  
  
Harry halted himself from crossing his fingers in front of him when Snape looked affronted instead of dismissive. Or that deceptive silky calm of his that was more poisonous than rage bubbling on the surface.  
  
Snape stared at him, still as a statue. Harry predicted that he would turn to stone soon.  
  
'I don't know what you're talking about Potter,' Snape spoke in a hiss. 'But I know it cannot be nothing for you to come here reluctantly. Did someone send you?'  
  
'No sir. Erm. . . Just my scar twigged again.'  
  
'An understatement I'm sure. Headmaster Dumbledore has told us about the regularity of it.' Snape seemed more at ease, now that they were talking about something else. He took his seat. 'Explain.'  
  
Harry wondered if he should stand where he was to talk. He felt like an inept first-year like this.  
  
'Erm. . .'  
  
'For crying out loud, sit down if you want to. You've wasted time as it is.' It was Snape and no mistake. Only he had the uncanny ability to read his mind.  
  
Obeying him, Harry sat and ended minutes later with, 'So, I was ermm. . . hoping that you'd ah. . . give me lessons again. If it's not too much a bother.' He added hurriedly.  
  
He blinked when Snape said, 'A praiseworthy attitude Potter.' Fortunately, Snape did not expect him to answer. He was tongue-tied for a while at the approval, coming from that source.  
  
'I shall conduct the lessons twice a week. Shall we say, Tuesday and Friday afternoons? We start when the Christmas holidays begin to escape the prying eyes of students. Professor Dumbledore, naturally, will be notified.' At Harry's nod, Snape continued sternly, 'There is the condition that you do not poke your nose where it's unwanted. I will not have you immerse in the gaiety of my memories. Is that clear?'  
  
Harry nodded quickly to prevent being caught in Snape's wrath.  
  
'Do you still have dreams of the Dark Lord?'  
  
Harry shook his head, 'I think, I mean the connection remains, but it feels like he's decided to cast me aside for now. Like he's not focussing on me as much as he did before.'  
  
'Oh, don't feel neglected. Be thankful you have this respite.'  
  
'You're just screwing me around, aren't you?'  
  
Snape said in an air of distaste, 'Such language Potter. The refined beauty of English will be mangled by your generation. No, I'm merely telling you. The Dark Lord has other. . . considerations at present.'  
  
'Like what?' Potter seized the opportunity to probe further.  
  
'Eager to know everything Potter? How like your father.'  
  
Harry opened his mouth and shut it again. He was seething with indignation as normal, whenever Snape ridiculed his father. After that incident of plunging into the pensieve and hence Snape's memory last year, he was careful not to aggravate Snape lest he brought the subject of James Potter up. Now, it was out in the open, and the ball was in his court, to speak figuratively. He weighed his options.  
  
'You're not all goody-too-shoes yourself sir,' Harry looked down at his fingernails, so that he would not see Snape's expression and react to it. 'You meddled in my father's and his friends' affairs to see if you can get them disgraced and expelled. Oh hell, it's the same way around. My father did that to you too. And yes,' he added moanfully at an afterthought, 'He strutted.' He cast for a red herring to give time to frame his thoughts. 'If it's any comfort, I find similarities between your relationship with my father and the one I have with Malfoy.'  
  
'Ah, you refer to Draco. Yes, he's a promising lad, from Salazar Slytherin's point of view. He'll follow his father's footsteps.'  
  
'Why do you call him Draco? You don't call a lot of people by their first names.'  
  
'True.'  
  
'So, why. . .'  
  
'Because.'  
  
Harry frowned. 'That's not a reason.'  
  
'I was dropping hints that you stop this line of questioning. Obviously, you did not pick them up.'  
  
'Fine, I guess I can tell why. He's rather respected among the Slytherins.'  
  
'He's a Malfoy. A rule a wizard sticks to is to not upset a member of that family.'  
  
'But you don't like him, do you?'  
  
Snape contemplated it. 'Not very much.' There was a tinge of regret.  
  
Harry clasped his hands together, to prevent them from fidgeting. 'Me too. Although, unlike my father who had to watch out for you, I don't have to concentrate on Malfoy. To me, he's a nuisance. Granted, he's got the cunning and ambition, but no intelligence. And guts, come to think of it. Sheer bravado all the way.' He gave a short bark of laughter, 'Do you know about the first time he and I entered the Forbidden Forest as punishment in our first year? I bet he wet his pants. He thrives on admiration. And he's bully, a groomed version of it at that. My cousin Dudley's more of a brute. Bottom-line is, he's too much of a baby to amount to what Lucius Malfoy expects him to be.' He paused, 'I've seen how he treats Malfoy.'  
  
'As have I.'  
  
'It's not very good, and his mother spoils him rotten. What the heck! What do I know about parenting?' Harry slapped his forehead after failing to keep his hands firmly on his lap. He gave a rueful grin.  
  
'But I suppose that Malfoy and I won't bother each other much with the cares of the world after we graduate, unless we meet in the war. It's just school, you know.' Harry went head-on. 'That's it. You and my father, that was in school for heaven's sake! Are you so incapable of letting go, or are you just plain unwilling to do so? This grudge of yours, it's ridiculous, it's just. . .' He tried to search for another appropriate word.  
  
Snape supplied it for him.  
  
'Juvenile.' The voice was soft, but replacing the usual malice that resonated under it, was admission.  
  
Harry waved his hand in a form of protest, albeit the effort being futile. He had never wholly managed in deceiving Snape before.  
  
Snape pushed his hair from his forehead. It was a gesture of nervousness for a stranger. In Snape, it presented a striking sense of tiredness.  
  
'I told you about hate Potter. I hated your father. It's very easy to sink into that pit, when it's all that's left of you to feel.' Harry snapped his head up at the fatalistic tone. He remembered the glimpse of childhood Snape had during one Occlumency lesson. What was his life like even at that young age, to drive him into a corner that no sane person would even choose to approach? Harry had often thought Snape to be many things. It was only recently that he concluded that Snape was human, with all the flaws and gifts attached. It was Voldemort who was evil.  
  
'No matter.' Snape said, 'It is over. Your parents are dead. Whilst the past cannot be forgotten, it can be buried. I have learnt that there are more pressing and more important things in life, frail as it is. I have overlooked your father's character to see you for what you are. No better, and no worse than any student I've taught, except for the celebrity status.'  
  
Harry mused, 'Padfoot said that it's tiring to cling to hatred.'  
  
Snape answered wryly, 'It consumes much energy.'  
  
'And also eats at your soul.'  
  
Snape shrugged a tad too unconcernedly. Harry was surprised he could read Snape's subtle ways of hiding emotion more and more accurately since the start of the year. He saw grim mirth flicker in Snape's eyes, the kind that showed that what the person was thinking of was not actually funny, then bleakness.  
  
'Well, you're talking to a Death-Eater, boy.'  
  
***  
  
Severus submerged himself in his bath and held his breath in the water.  
  
One thousand, two thousand, three. . .  
  
He counted till a minute and a half elapsed and his lungs gave out. He pushed himself out of the water, and gasped for air. He swept his wet hair away from his face and held his head as though he could block out the internal pounding in his mind. When that failed, he hit his head against the wall beside him.  
  
He yelled out in pain. When even that subsided, leaving behind the initial turbulence within him, he moaned.  
  
He had been pleased to see Potter in his office. It had forced him out of his reverie, yet it had acted simply as a delay towards the inevitable. When Potter had walked out, he was left alone with the tirade of memories of his recent encounter with Adela.  
  
He leant back and let the water swirl over him as shame filled him.  
  
He was disgusting. To be desirous for a woman slightly over half his age. He had thought that it would be a simple task of accompanying Adela back to Hogwarts. Instead, what he had received was an unexpected and unwelcome impulse to envelop her in his arms and not release her. He corrected himself. Unexpected, yes, unwelcome. . .  
  
'Stop. Stop!' he cried out to no one. Why was he feeling like this? Why was he condemning and nourishing the love he felt for her all at once?  
  
Since his years as a servant of the Dark Lord ended the first time, he had vowed not to compromise on a female's decency. He had not enjoyed it, and they had suffered for it. When he joined him again after his resurrection, he somehow survived by providing the Dark Lord aid in his fields of expertise and avoided his displeasure when he did not attend sessions of torturing Muggles and Muggleborns, extracting information from the latter. How many nights had he spent deep in the night blaming himself for being unable of saving them? The numbers stacked as more victims fell prey and screamed down his conscience.  
  
He was a wicked man, and a sinful bastard. His students were right.  
  
His mind turned to another direction. To imagine Albus encouraging this! What was that madman thinking?  
  
*It won't work,* he thought, *It can never.*  
  
He lowered himself further into the bath and soaked himself until his skin became wrinkled. Still, he remained, as his tears trickled down into the cold water.  
  
***  
  
'That is unfortunate,' Adela said sympathetically after watching Hermione trounce Ron with a catapult of snowballs by surprise. It resulted in Ron sprawling on the grounds in an awkward angle, with his flaming red hair freckled with snow. He choked on his own scarf. Adela struggled to smother her laugh with her hands. She ended up coughing.  
  
'That's foul play, that is!' roared Ron with wounded pride. Flicking his wand, he hurled an enormous snowball towards Hermione, and had it struck back at him.  
  
Finally, he won the battle by simply throwing his body against Hermione till they tumbled onto the ground.  
  
Adela wrapped her coat snugly round her as she took in the scenery. Endless stretches of pure, blinding white snow covered the castle and fields, spoilt only by track marks and footprints that showed the recent departure of most students. These actually enhanced and not marred the sublime beauty of the place. Instead of a lonely and grey spell that winter was believed to bring, Hogwarts appeared majestic as it stood out in the area. The decorations were strategically arranged to impose the untrained eye with grandeur that was not oppressive but inviting. Even the Forbidden Forest exuded a fairylike quality in this season of the year. There was a sense of enchantment in the air, and Adela was aware of the literal application of the description in this case.  
  
She wondered that the lake was not frozen. Possibly magic was used.  
  
'Adela! Come and join us!' During Adela's admiration of the grounds, Hermione had convinced Ron to build a snowman the Muggle style with her. When Adela walked closer to them, she heard Hermione instruct Ron on how to roll the snow till it became a large round body.  
  
Ron grumbled, 'This is really slow.'  
  
'This has a personal touch to it. You'll feel a splendid sense of achievement after that.'  
  
Ron pointedly looked about, 'I hope no one sees us doing this.'  
  
'Stop being a wimp,' said Hermione distractedly as she scooped up another handful of snow.  
  
'I'll be a wimp if I continue doing this.' Ron went on mumbling darkly, but was caught up in the momentum as they persisted in structuring the snowman to their liking. Soon, he began humming Christmas songs. Adela found out wizarding songs were very different from Muggle ones. In fact, she checked her initial impulse to ask how they originated. It did not seem very nice to know why chestnuts and gnomes were connected. She had a sneaky suspicion it was something rude aimed at the unfriendly group.  
  
She went to pick a bundle of twigs and brittle leaves to contribute to the snowman's features.  
  
'Hagrid's big and bulky like a snowman, isn't he?' Ron chortled. He rushed off to Hagrid's hut to retrieve one of his fur coats and covered the snowman back. With a bolt of inspiration, he made another snow sculpture beside 'Hagrid' whilst Hermione and Adela added the eyes and nose. It turned out to be a copy of Fang. The droopy ears were highly distinct. Hermione then piled up more snow at the feet and Adela carved out the words, 'The Keeper of Keys' using a branch.  
  
The three stepped back to admire their creation.  
  
'Not bad.' Ron looked on smugly.  
  
'We should get credit points for this.' Hermione joked.  
  
'Oh, watch it.' Adela saw the real Hagrid walk out of his hut, trying to find out what Ron had done to his coat. When Hagrid spotted his snow counterpart, he bellowed with laughter.  
  
'How did you do that?' Hagrid inquired. He circled the snowman and viewed it critically.  
  
Ron winked at him, 'Magic.'  
  
'It's shor'er than me.' Hagrid said.  
  
'We aren't that tall.' Hermione complained.  
  
Hagrid glanced at her and realised what she meant. He asked how long they had spent.  
  
Hermione checked her watch, 'An hour.'  
  
''ere, that ain't bad.'  
  
'Just what I said,' Ron interjected. 'Only I said "not" rather than "ain't".'  
  
'Pity Harry isn't here to enjoy the first day of the holidays.' Hermione tossed more snow into the air, 'Lovely.'  
  
'Yes, well, you know it's important that he takes lessons from Professor Snape.' Adela gazed back at the castle, 'How cold do you think the dungeons are this time of year?'  
  
'Never been, never tried.' Ron said. 'But Snape doesn't leave the fires burning. Bet he wallows in the cold.'  
  
'Now don't ye be rude 'bout Professor Snape.'  
  
'I'm not rude, I'm honest.'  
  
Adela did not listen to the rest of the conversation. She stared intently at where she thought the dungeons were.  
  
'He chooses the cold.'  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, Severus had an inkling that Potter was wishing he did not choose the cold. The boy was shivering and stamping the floors hoping to get some feeling back to his feet.  
  
'When you are done,' he said unimpressed at Potter's attempts to prove that people did not usually have the fireplaces empty during winter, 'You can draw your wand out and face me.' One learnt discipline in the cold.  
  
Potter let free a string of dark oaths that he had to wonder where he had picked them. Possibly from that cousin of his. Severus did not recall Potter having this extended vocabulary the year before.  
  
'All right, I'm fine.' Potter gritted his teeth, 'Next time, I'll install my own central heating here.'  
  
Severus shrugged, knowing it would irritate Potter further. It did, to his amusement.  
  
'Stop it sir.' Potter raised his wand and twirled it, 'I don't want to waste an afternoon doing nothing.'  
  
'As I recall, you were the one who approached me.'  
  
Potter's mouth made a downward turn, 'I know.' He did not retaliate.  
  
The boy had grown up after all. Much faster than James at any rate.  
  
Severus sighed. When was he going to stop comparing father and son? He always did, even though he tried not to. Admittedly, he did not exert much will into trying. When Potter and he met the first time, the resemblance struck him so forcibly he remembered every humiliation he suffered under James Potter and his cronies when he was a young student. He remembered the torment, he saw his nemesis jeer cruelly at him, and in that crack of time, he hated Harry Potter.  
  
Events showed the boy to be different from his father, but old grudges rankled and Severus derived perverse pleasure from mocking and punishing him at every turn. It was a channel thorough which he exorcised his childhood demons, and gave him an all-encompassing sense of control. It was not James Potter who towered over him. It was he who basked in the sureness that Potter could not hurt him. It was not the students who were in casual power. It was he who made them cringe. As for their loathing him. Let them hate, so long as they fear.  
  
Indeed, as he knew in his heart, he was nothing but an older bully, and he was repulsed at embodying the very thing he hated. Still he kept on ruining Potter's day, sometimes justifiably, all the while allowing his old hate run loose irrationally. And he thought himself mature.  
  
Where did the six years of teaching and terrorising Potter lead him?  
  
Severus watched Potter as the boy tested his wand before the lesson started.  
  
*Let it go Severus. He's not James. He's Harry. Let it go for everyone. Treat him like a student, hmmm. . . Not much of a change over there. Let the hate go, for Albus, for Evans, for Hogwarts, for his family, for Ade. . .*  
  
He caught himself.  
  
'Sir, I'm ready.'  
  
Severus nodded and drew out his wand.  
  
Neither was lax during the training, each determined to gain the upper hand. Severus was by far the more experienced of the two, and managed to capture Potter in his weaker moments. Memories revisited in Potter's mind made the student more alert and focussed.  
  
'Well done,' Severus said, when Potter deflected a spell. 'Your presence of mind has improved since the last time I taught you.'  
  
Potter was panting at the recent effort, 'That's be. . . because I stop wishing you to just drop dead so I can leave.'  
  
Severus overlooked the frankness, 'Whatever helps Mr. Potter,' he said lightly, 'will be valuable. Professor Dumbledore will be pleased when I report of this advancement. Needless to say he was disappointed with your behaviour last year.'  
  
Potter wiped his eyebrow. Severus smirked as he observed Potter's dawning comprehension, and bewildered expression when he looked at his sweaty palms.  
  
Potter glared at him, 'Central heating?'  
  
Severus looked at the ceiling as a reply. A ball of fire hovered over them.  
  
He said, 'Not exactly, but it holds the same purpose. I cast that spell when you were in one of your distracted moments. It provides light, warmth and,' he could not prevent himself smiling sardonically, 'gothic theatrics.'  
  
'Yes, quite.' Potter stared at the brilliance. 'What's the spell?'  
  
'Ignito ignivus.'  
  
'I'll keep that in mind.' Potter looked at him and coughed, 'And now Professor. . .'  
  
Severus knew what he would do and steadied himself for it.  
  
'Impedimenta!' Potter cried.  
  
Severus blocked it, but he was flung backwards when Potter simultaneously cast another. He felt his mind yawn open and his memories pour into Potter's to see. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a part of him thought, *The boy is good with his wand.*  
  
Flashes of his past flew them by. He watched in a strange, undetached manner as the boy he once was played by himself under his favourite tree, far from the house and away from his domineering father and weak mother. He leant forward as if to reach out to that boy, who transformed into a twenty- year old man dressed in Death-Eater robes receiving his Dark Mark, to a broken man looking older than his age exploring the green plains, to a girl who was constantly fascinating and plaguing him. . .  
  
Severus broke the thread. 'Enough!' Both of them staggered out of the haziness of snatches of memories.  
  
What happened? He swore he had put all those involving Adela into the pensieve. How much did he see?  
  
Potter was staring at him.  
  
*He knows.*  
  
Whatever Potter saw on his face, which Severus knew must be thunderous, caused the boy's complexion to pale several shades.  
  
'The lesson ends for today,' he said curtly.  
  
'Professor, I didn't mean to. . .'  
  
'If you tell anyone. . .' Severus spat.  
  
'I won't!' Potter's head jerked, 'You can obliviate me if you. . .'  
  
'To obliviate someone because of this is an abomination,' Severus grounded out, 'Even if that someone is you.'  
  
'She hates Memory Charms too.' Potter's words were a lightning, with more charge in it than an ordinary one.  
  
'Go.'  
  
Potter hesitated, but his innate character overrode his Gryffindor inquisitiveness and he walked to the door.  
  
Severus's back turned so that he could not see the boy and hex him.  
  
'You don't have to be so frightened you know.'  
  
Severus whirled round in shock and consternation.  
  
Potter had left the dungeon.  
  
***  
  
Severus kicked the snow in frustration. He had stalked out to pace the open grounds to allow his rage free rein.  
  
*Sooner or later, sooner or later, everyone will know,* his mind wailed. *How long can I hide?*  
  
'Damnation.' He kicked the snow vigorously again.  
  
'The snow's not that bad. It didn't offend, did it?'  
  
Severus kicked the snow in defiance, 'What do you want?'  
  
Adela stood in front of him, 'I'm just strolling around. Harry's joined Hermione and Ron at Hagrid's. I thought you'd be in those dungeons.' There was an inflexion in her voice that suggested she did not approve of his recent cooping up in them.  
  
Severus sniffed, 'I apologise for being a terrible host. I lack expertise.'  
  
'I'm not that petty.' Adela scoffed.  
  
For the first time since his visit to Lucius, Severus smiled, 'I know.' It was as though the problem had solved itself. There was none of the awkwardness felt as when she had returned. It was as if his despair and premonition that nothing would turn out right had dissipated as soon as he had set eyes on her. He could do this. He wanted to.  
  
In silent agreement, they resumed their customary walk around the area, despite the change in weather and scenery, that made them trudge through the snow and slow down their pace.  
  
Severus was always amazed by how she understood him. Despite him welcoming her company, he was in no mood for chatting. She kept to herself and walked beside him, admiring the scenery and was undemanding of his personal attention. He, in turn, was happy she was with him, deliriously so. He had been afraid she would be put off by his recent sullenness. The irony was not lost on him, he who warded people from invading his privacy and who also wanted her to be a part of his life.  
  
Severus sighed. As if things were not complicated enough.  
  
How long they had walked he had no idea, his mind wandering from her to the Dark Lord to Potter to the books, but he stopped when something icy and wet splattered onto the back of his head.  
  
His hand reached to touch it and came back covered with snow. Knowing to whom he owed this, he glared at the culprit Adela.  
  
She was looking sheepish. 'I thought we'd lose you to introspection.'  
  
He understood her. How much had he shown on his face to make her worried?  
  
'Well, you'll be pleased to know you brought me back to reality in a very stinging manner.' He bent down in pretense of arranging his robes.  
  
Adela said, 'Whatever works.' Then he had the pleasure of watching those adored grey eyes widen when he straightened his body with a pile of snow in his hands.  
  
She ducked swiftly when he hurled it to her.  
  
Soon, they were engaged in a battle of snow attack, she whooping and he taunting at every opportunity.  
  
Severus had never felt this liberating in his life.  
  
***  
  
High up the Gryffindor tower, back from a half-giant's home, three friends were betting who would win the fight.  
  
Harry thought to himself as Ron and Hermione observed from the window in half-disbelief, half-hilarity, *Not the conventional method, but it's a start.* 


	11. Chapter 10

__

We cannot change anything unless we accept it. ~ Carl Jung, M.D.

Chapter 10

Now that it was the holidays, the staff in Hogwarts was more relaxed, although still watchful of occurrences around the wizarding world.

As they filed into the meeting room to give their reports, Severus observed the three additions to the group. He was pleased that they looked suitably awed and subdued.

With time passing by, it was clear that war between the two sides was imminent. Albus felt that those heavily involved in it must be fully aware of the consequences they had to prepare themselves for, regardless of age. The Trio was a prime target among the student population, and Albus felt it was time for them to be in the Order as full-fledged members. Severus recalled the hard time Albus and Minerva had convincing Molly. He smirked. Thank Merlin he had not been dragged into that near impossible assignment. Anyone would cringe under Molly Weasley's ire, including Albus. It was only when Ron Weasley had persuaded his mother that she had relented.

Severus hoped they did not regret the newfound burden.

He heard Hagrid tell of the giants' move down the hills in preparation for what battle there was to come. It was an achievement worthy of the Four Founders themselves. Even Severus was impressed by Hagrid's persistence and undying support for his half-brother. Minerva gathered the reports from various staff and summed up the unlying currents among the students, except the Slytherins. Black, who was also there, told of all sorts of rumours he had heard, both the plausible and the ludicrous. It was left for Severus to report about those in his House.

He took a deep breath. 'As you know, the Dark Lord is always recruiting new members to increase the number of Death-Eaters. Last night, an initiation rite took place. I compiled a list of names of the fifty-one witches and wizards who joined.'

The people around him stirred.

'Fifty-one?' Jonathan echoed everyone's sentiments.

'Fifty-one.' Severus confirmed steadily. _You must be in control Severus. Don't you dare react. Read this like you're reading a list of Potions ingredients._

So Severus read the names one by one. He avoided everyone's intent gaze, knowing the pain they felt as a Hogwarts graduate was mentioned, not showing the hurt he felt when it was evident Slytherins were the majority.

There were a few nasty surprises though. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs found their way in as well. Unable to stop himself, Severus shot a glance at Weasley. The boy flinched.

'Cornelius Fudge was the forty-seventh. I'm afraid while it has not happened, Percy Weasley may follow his footsteps.' His voice was forced to increase in volume a few folds when some of them cried out in horror to read out the rest of the names. It was horrendous enough to know there were misguided students, but the Minister of Magic himself?

Albus, who had been previously informed by Severus, explained to all present, 'In a sense, Fudge fears me more than he does Voldemort. In his opinion, I'm always lingering in public eye, waiting to seize his position. He has made a truce with Voldemort that he will remain Minister should Voldemort overtake the world.' His disdain was palpable when he said, 'A puppet Minister.'

Black growled, 'It's an ugly business.'

Weasley was unable to refrain himself. 'No,' he slammed his hand on the table, outraged that Severus had suggested that his brother's integrity was debatable, 'It can't be! It just can't. That's wrong!' Potter and Granger had to hold him back from snatching the list away.

Severus handed the paper to Albus. 'I'm afraid so Weasley. Your family, except for Miss Weasley, has been informed.'

He did not go on further. Percy Weasley had always been the one who was rational, but too rigid and zealous in his work he deemed important. His hankering for social status and wealth could be his downfall. Yet that did not necessarily make him evil. The boy might become seduced by the offers the Dark Lord gave, that was all. 

On his part, much as he was tempted, he could not contact the young wizard for risk of exposure. Percy Weasley had to find his way.

The younger brother was shaking with indignation and fear.

'He's always been a prig. You know, he hasn't owled Mum and Dad for ages. But, that doesn't… we never thought… Merlin, I need to see them. Mum and Dad must be shattered. No wonder they don't want me and Ginny going home this season. It's not going to be festive.'

'I have seen them Mr. Weasley,' Albus said gently, 'They are coping. They have hope.'

Weasley shook his head. Granger held his hand, her lips trembling at the news. Potter grasped his arm.

Weasley stood up and excused himself. Severus saw he was going to cry.

Granger accompanied him out, followed by Potter. Severus saw Potter turn back and look at Black. At his unspoken inquiry, Black shook his head. There would be no further news. The meeting was technically over.

Potter's jaw was drawn as he walked out.

The staff was silent for several moments.

Severus said reasonably, 'It seems like a large number but that's because we've become used to how the Dark Lord had been failing to get any. In the first war, the Death-Eaters were as many as eight hundred. Together with these recent members, we make up but two hundred and forty four today.'

'It is still overwhelming that You-Know-Who's managed to lure so many in a short period.' Meredith frowned.

'It's the books.' Severus deduced. 'The books show your desire fulfilled. The Dark Lord uses them to lead them to think they can get what they want, so long as they ally with him.'

'Bloody books.' Meredith muttered richly, 'How to get rid of them.'

Albus said, 'That is something we need to discuss. Does anyone have an idea? Severus has spoken to Lucius Malfoy. Short of using a Muggle, with the possibility of him or her as a channel to sift out the power and render the books harmless, we do not know how to destroy them.'

'Can we steal them in the first place?' Minerva asked.

'Only through cunning. Mr. Malfoy has agreed to cooperate.' Severus answered, 'We have to formulate a plan.'

'It still strikes me that that man knows you are with us.' Minerva patted his hand, 'I didn't credit him with that kind of astuteness.'

'Merely a mutual understanding,' Severus said mirthlessly, 'We know each other too long, too thoroughly.'

__

Too much.

~***~

'Ron please.' Hermione rationalised with him. 'You have to be strong.'

'I'm sick of being strong.' Ron yelled and started thrashing anything he grabbed in the Common Room. His eyes flared in challenge to Harry and Hermione who tried to calm him down. 'What's the whole frigging point?'

'I used to think like that too Ron,' Harry said quietly, 'Like no matter how much you try, it's better to just give up and let them swallow you.'

'That's different! You're the Boy-Who-Lives. Besides, you don't know what it's like… You don't have a family.'

At that, Harry stiffened. Ron, too, realised his mistake.

'That's unfair Ron. Thoughtless,' Harry was hurt, 'I have Sirius. I have you and Hermione. Much as I don't like the Dursleys, they're still my only relatives. And we have to be strong because the war's not over yet. We have to fight Voldemort.'

To which Ron countered gruffly, 'We've always done that, haven't we?'

Hermione nodded her head, 'All of us. You, me, Harry. The Order. We are part of the Order now too.'

'I think we got lucky. I think I got lucky too many times. My number's running out.'

'Don't say that.' Hermione frowned in anguish.

'She's right Ron,' Sirius said as he stepped into the room, 'Anything can happen. The tide may turn.'

'This, from you Padfoot?' Ron shook his head at Sirius's optimism.

Sirius sat down on the carpet and motioned them to do the same, 'From me Ron. We need not just our wits, but our spirits. Believe me, I had a lot of catching up to do.'

Harry took in Sirius's demeanour. Each time he saw his godfather, Sirius became progressively livelier and younger, returning to the days when he was still a handsome, jovial man whose friends were alive and happy. The haunted expression did not escape his eyes. No doubt that would remain for a very long time. Living in Azkaban with his sanity intact was truly miraculous. Harry appreciated that fact, after a few run-ins with just a few Demetors for a comparatively brief space of some minutes. He would not forget the chill and helplessness he always felt when he encountered them.

Ron smiled weakly, 'Would things ever be right again?' He reflected, 'Me and Ginny, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George,' His voice hitched when he next mentioned, 'Percy.' He missed Percy. The others did too. No matter what pranks they played on him, Percy was still their brother. Ron recalled what had happened after the Second Task in the Triwizard Tournament. Percy had been so worried over Ron's safety and Ron had protested over Percy's over-protectiveness. Ron would rather have that now, instead of this cold shoulder. 'We've always lived knowing… there was… him. That monster. Harry, Hermione, you two never lived in that kind of… We used to make fun of it. And you know, Harry, we always cracked jokes about your scar… Mum and Dad tried to shield us from it, but there was always a reminder somewhere… I wish we had that, that chance of not having You-Know-Who. I want it.'

Sirius said sympathetically, 'You'll have it Ron. If we keep going and stay united.'

Hermione patted Ron's hand, 'If we keep trying.'

Ron sniffed and pulled himself together. He said bashfully, 'Thanks… You didn't laugh when I said You-Know-Who and not… not his name?'

'Of course not!'

'You weren't laughing in the inside?'

Hermione swatted at him playfully, relieved Ron had overcome his momentary bleakness.

Harry rolled his eyes at them and smiled at Sirius.

'Soon as I can get my hands on Percy, I'll strangle him.' Ron made an effort to return to his cheerful self. 'Maybe we can get Fred and George to send him a dung-bomb. Two dung-bombs.' He got up and walked to the window so no one could see him as he blew out snot from his nose.

'Uh oh.'

'What?' Harry asked.

'You better turn back to your Animagus form Sirius.' Ron pointed out of the window in disgust, 'Lucius bloody Malfoy.'

~***~

Adela was hoping to see some of the staff or the students. She was getting restless in her present accommodations. The Headmistress had arranged that they be near her own rooms while Adela stayed in Hogwarts. They were wonderful naturally. Specious, with red and gold as the main themes. A huge four-poster bed was situated against one of the walls, with red velvet covers and drapes. A rope hung by the bed, attached to a magical bell that would alert the House-Elves should she ring for their presence. There were book-shelves filled with magical books. Adela had been reading a few of them in a long, L-shaped sofa that could easily be another bed actually. The books were fascinating, but after several hours of intense reading, her eyes had started to water.

She stared out of the windows at the vast lands outside, luring her to walk out there.

'By heck!' she cried with feeling. I can't go out without _someone_.'

They must be busy, Adela decided. She wondered at her use, or more precisely, lack of use here. She was no more than a companion, an unusual visiting guest true, but nevertheless a guest. Now that she knew everything was in the Order's fine hands, she should simply leave. It would be more prudent. If anyone discovered her lingering in the castle, it would compromise their position. The Ministry, for one, would make incessant inquiries. She had questioned the wisdom of her being here with Dumbledore and McGonagall. Both were adamant that she stayed. So she did, taking double precautions for every movement out of the rooms she made.

She was utterly relieved at the prospect of being in touch with what went on in the wizarding world. For selfish reasons, she was happy to accompany newfound friends, all trustworthy and warm.

Of course, Adela thought darkly, it would all end. When the war was over, she would part with them, forever. All these would be mere memory. She may keep in touch with those who lived in the Muggle world, her world, as well as the wizarding world, like Hermione and Harry, but she would forever leave him. Severus. Odd, how she cared for him so much. But yes, she loved him.

She put the books back on the shelves, and suddenly, knew she was not alone.

She instinctively turned and saw a stranger staring at her. A stranger, in his forties, tall, aristocratic, with long, blonde hair, cold eyes and thin lips.

'How do you do Mr. Malfoy. May I help you?'

Lucius smiled, to all appearances, modest and flattered, 'Ah, you know me?'

'I recognise you from the Daily Prophet, yes.'

'You have the benefit over me then. May I know who you are?'

The girl gazed at him evenly, before saying, 'Adela Stanton.'

Lucius wondered at her calmness. Most strangers or acquaintances had either of two reactions whenever they met him. Servility or uneasiness. Clearly, this woman was to be carefully watched.

He smiled. He had intended on visiting Severus for a particular reason, but he could not find him. This would be a delightful diversion.

'Miss Stanton. Tell me, are you a new professor, or an apprentice?'

~***~

Severus walked through the corridors, barking at some students who had been too immersed in their mischief making to see him coming. After taking eighty points from Gryffindor, twenty from Hufflepuff and five from Ravenclaw, he felt immeasurably better.

That was until he reached Adela's rooms and heard an unwanted voice inside.

'Severus! We are well met.' Lucius greeted him cheerily when he stepped in. 'I wanted to talk to you. But first, come tell, who is this lovely girl whom I know nothing about? I do after all, have an interest in the school whilst my son studies here.'

Severus feigned irritation, while he wondered how much Lucius knew. Adela supplied him the information. 'I told you Mr. Malfoy, I'm helping the school during the holidays.'

Severus seized upon this and lied smoothly on the spot, 'She's helping in administration. The odd jobs. Drafting up class schedules for the staff, that sort of thing. There's no need to pay attention to her.'

'What, not pay attention to such prettiness?' Lucius cried.

Severus ignored him, 'Let's go to my rooms. We won't be disturbed there. I'll see you later Miss Stanton.'

Lucius shrugged. 'Ah, yes. We return to business. I am very pleased to see Miss Stanton. I hope we shall be better acquainted.' Taking her hand, he kissed her fingertips. Adela suppressed her surprise admirably, though Severus was ready to trottle him.

'Come to think of it,' Lucius asked slyly as they walked out, 'Why is it that I've never seen nor heard about her?'

Severus scowled, 'Even the great Lucius Malfoy cannot know every witch or wizard, especially when she's a Muggleborn.'

'A Muggleborn? Severus, she didn't even have a wand with her. You would have been more convincing if you'd said she was a Squib. She's that Muggle, isn't she?'

Once again Severus switched topics, 'How did you know the password?'

'McGonagall didn't change it for the last few years! For pity's sake, Severus, do mind the details sometimes.'

'You know I do Lucius. I've not managed to remain alive because I'm lucky.' Severus had to tell Minerva about her carelessness. It was probably a good thing to know that Lucius would not tell anyone about Adela since it would not benefit him. 'Why did you come here then?'

'I thought, now that you're on the other side, you might become friendly towards all Gryffindors. I thought I might find you around. And voila, who do I find, but Miss Stanton.'

'We had a meeting.' Severus waved his wand when they approached his study. The ward became temporarily lifted and Severus gestured for Lucius to enter first.

'So who is she?' Lucius asked as he settled in one of the more comfortable chairs available. 'Do you have any wine?'

'Georges Duboeuf Pouilly-Fuissé, 1943.' Severus took down a bottle and poured two glasses of the golden-green liquid out. His sensitive nose inhaled the smells of citrus and almonds and the hint of vanilla.

'Not what I would suggest on a morning but it will be excellent.'

Handing a glass to Lucius, Severus finally answered, 'She's the Muggle who caused an upheaval in Hogsmeade. Albus thought it more appropriate for her to stay for some obscure reason I've yet to fathom.'

'I see.' Lucius shrugged with plain boredom. It seemed he was more interested in his wine than her.

Howver, Severus could not refrain from saying curtly. 'Lucius, if you're thinking of using her for those books…' He was ridiculously glad that Lucius dismissed Adela as no more than a Muggle. He could not stand it if Lucius had set his loathsome eyes on her. As it was, Adela was nothing. Severus felt guilty at his selfishness. He savoured the full, supple and dry taste of wine before continuing, 'The fact is, we don't have the books.'

'But my dear Severus, I have one of the books right here with me.'

The bewilderment on his face must be apparent, because Lucius was relishing the sight. The man was smirking. Severus frowned, trying to dissect the meaning of what Lucius had said.

'The Dark Lord allowed you to take it?'

'He's getting impatient. Hence last night, he summoned me and instructed me in no uncertain terms that I would have to solve this what did he say? Ah, this "minuscule problem". Minuscule, can you believe he actually used such a banal expression? And in seven days no less. I suspect it's what comes from being bred in a Muggle orphanage.'

Severus himself was getting impatient and he showed by taunting Lucius with the bottle. Lucius smiled languidly. 

Severus mulled over what Lucius told him, 'Why did he give it to you and not the others? He doesn't trust his old servants as much as the new ones if his actions are of any significance.'

'You have to admit that we old _servants_,' Lucius spat the word out in disgust, 'know him better than the new recruits do. I gather they may be blindingly faithful to him, but not all have the expertise and skill to handle something as important as this. He can't turn to you because keeping the book in Hogwarts is simply not safe. I have the luxury of my home to study it.'

'Very well. Let us see this wearisome book you have.'

Lucius drew out a package from under his cloak and placed it on the table. He gestured for Severus to unwrap it. As Severus obliged and removed layers of brown paper, Lucius spoke, 'He gave me the Book of Love. He thinks it's the least powerful of the four books.'

'Are you surprised?' Severus asked rhetorically. 'Albus, on the other hand, will contradict the Dark Lord's opinion.' The book now revealed, Severus marvelled at the magic emitting from it. 'What do you intend to do?'

'I was thinking of bringing in a Muggle to try it. But that will only be the last resort you understand. I will leave the book for your precious Order to study it, seeing that none of them had the chance to do so. I will collect it in four days. Will that be ample time? It may be that I will have to ally myself with Dumbledore personally'

'Thank you Lucius. As gracious as always.'

'Naturally. One must cultivate charming manners to hide his ulterior motives.'

It was good then, Severus thought, that he knew enough of the world to see through anyone's mask.

~***~

After spending two nights in a row trying to uncover the secrets of the book, Severus and the others were frustrated over the lack of progress they had achieved. They had spilt up into small groups of three to four over the nights so that while one member tried his or her luck on the book, the others could watch and intervene should he or she be in a precarious situation.

'Gah!' Minerva exclaimed when it was her turn to solve the mystery. She had tried various methods involving her expertise of Transfiguration to siphon the magic out from the book. 'This is not a challenge. This is impossibility. Our lowly magic cannot work on wild magic. Let Lord Voldemort have the book. It will of no use to him.'

'It is an excellent suggestion,' Severus stated wearily. 'Why can't we leave it with him Albus? It's obvious he cannot control it. None of us can.'

Albus sucked on his lemon drop passively. Taking out his pocket-watch, everyone heard it chime eleven o'clock in the night. Albus said, 'Let us try for another two hours. Severus, it's your turn I believe.'

Severus sighed. Taking over Minerva's position while she went to sit down gratefully, Severus paused for a while as he stared at the cover. He loathed and yearned for it, just as people loathed and yearned the Mirror of Erised. It was everything one could want, but everything that was false. Nothing but illusion, but making one feel that if he could only stretch out, he could grasp whatever he wanted.

Gritting his teeth, Severus plunged headlong to work. He had asked Filch to procure several mice for him with the help of Mrs. Norris. The silly cat had been reluctant to partake her catch until Filch had promised that the mice would be returned to her. Placing one of them on the table, he coaxed it to open the book using its nose. After several frustrating moments, he succeeded.

But nothing happened. The mouse ran across the pages and was still intact.

'It won't work. Even though it's a living creature, it's not reading the book. Only those who read the book will understand and have the magic affect them.' Albus explained.

'I know, but we have to try everything, no matter how remote the chances are.' Severus scooped the mouse into his hand and put it back into the cage. 'It's disappointing. It'll appear that we should formulate another plan. If we can't destroy the books, the least we can do is hide them where no one can find them.'

Severus stared at Albus but the old wizard was not looking at him. Was Albus thinking of that last resort? Albus was exceptionally fond of Muggles, and he would protect them as much as he did witches and wizards. If possible, he would not hurt anyone. It was this love that stayed his hand when he had not told Potter the whole truth until he had no choice but to reveal all in Potter's fifth year.

Severus decided to become the devil's advocate. 'Albus, there is…'

'I'd rather not find out Severus.'

Severus was relieved. So was Minerva, who said, 'Many lives have been lost in this war already. It won't do to let Muggles become embroiled in something they can't begin to comprehend.'

'That's harsh on us Muggles, that is Professor.'

Severus sighed, and acknowledged Adela's presence, 'Miss Stanton.'

Adela stepped in. 'Is that the tiresome book that is plaguing all of you?'

Albus replied, 'It is Adela. We have all done our best, to no avail.'

She said simply, 'That's because you are all letting your better feelings get over logic.' And she reached out for the book. Severus, who was closest to her, shouted, 'Adela, no!' and leant forward to stop her. Minerva stood up hurriedly and Albus drew out his wand. Taking advantage of her own energy and their lethargy, Adela grasped the book and scuttled to a corner. Severus ran to her.

Albus cast Stupefy but the book deflected the spell.

'Come back here this instance.' Minerva pleaded frantically, 'There are other ways.'

But Adela opened the book and Severus stopped in his tracks as he stared in horror as she began skimming through the pages. For a hellish while, he imagined all forms of gruesome incidents that would happen to Adela. None took place. Only when Adela closed the book did the other three relax. Like the previous mouse, nothing happened to her.

'That was… anti-climatic,' was all Severus could bring himself to say.

'See? It lessens your burden of worrying over Muggles being used.' Adela countered lightly, but it could be seen that her fortitude was shaken.

'What did you see?' Albus asked gently.

Adela tossed the book to a nearby sofa. It landed with a thump. 'That was too overwhelming. I don't want to touch it again… I didn't read anything actually. The pages all glowed golden but they were all blank for me. Maybe non-magical creatures can't read them… But I felt… It's indescribable.'

Minerva wagged a finger at her, showing disapproval while betraying her anxiety, 'That will teach you not to meddle in powerful magic, young lady.' She picked up the book and handed it back to Albus, 'That settles it. We either leave Voldemort with his playthings or hide these books.' She turned back to scold Adela further, but could not when Severus impulsively drew Adela into his embrace and began muttering, 'Silly girl. Reckless, foolhardy, little viper.'

Minerva had to press her lips tightly together to prevent herself from grinning ear to ear. She turned to Albus for instruction. He too, was hard-put not to start thumping Severus on his back.

'He'll never hear the end of this,' Albus whispered, voice trembling with mirth. 'Let's leave them and go have our well-deserved sleep.' Minerva nodded.

After the both of them slipped out of the staff-room and out of hearing range together, they fell into fits of hysterics.


End file.
